No: 53; variant: 53I
- IN London was Young Bechin born,
Foreign nations he longed to see;
He passed through many kingdoms great,
At length he came unto Turkie.
- He viewed the fashions of that land,
The ways of worship viewed he,
But unto any of their gods
He would not so much as bow the knee.
- On every shoulder they made a bore,
In every bore they put a tree,
Then they made him the winepress tread,
And all in spite of his fair bodie.
- They put him into a deep dungeon,
Where he could neither hear nor see,
And for seven years they kept him there,
Till for hunger he was like to die.
- Stephen, their king, had a daughter fair,
Yet never a man to her came nigh;
And every day she took the air,
Near to his prison she passed by.
- One day she heard Young Bechin sing
A song that pleased her so well,
No rest she got till she came to him,
All in his lonely prison cell.
- ‘I have a hall in London town,
With other buildings two or three,
And I’ll give them all to the ladye fair
That from this dungeon shall set me free.’
- She stole the keys from her dad’s head,
And if she oped one door ay she opened three,
Till she Young Bechin could find out,
He was locked up so curiouslie.
- ‘I’ve been a porter at your gate
This thirty years now, ay and three;
There stands a ladye at your gate,
The like of her I neer did see.
- ‘On every finger she has a ring,
On the mid-finger she has three;
She’s as much gold about her brow
As would an earldom buy to me.’
- He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
He gently led her through the green;
He changed her name from Susie Pie,
An he’s called her lovely Ladye Jean.