PR Website - The Knight and the Shepherd’s Daughter

No: 110; variant: 110[N]

Ther was a sheperd's daughter Keeped hogs upon yon hill, An by came [t]her a gentell knight, An he wad haa his will.
Fan his will Of her he had taiin, 'Kind sir, for your curtisy, Will ye tell me yer name?'
'Some they caa me Joke, An some caa me John, Bat fan I am in our king's court Hichkoke is my name.'
The lady bieng well book-read She spealled it our agen: 'Hichkoke in Latin Is Earl Richerd att heam.'
He patt his liag out-our his stead An to the gate has gain; She kilted up her green clathing An fast folloued she.
'Turn back, ye carl's dother, An dinne: follou me; It setts no carl's dothers King's courts to see.'
'Perhaps I am a carle's dother, Perhaps I am nean, Bat fan ye gat me in free forest Ye sud haa latten alean.'
Fan they came to yon wan water That a' man cas Clide, He luked our his left shoulder, Says, Fair maid, will ye ride?
'I learned it in my mother's bour, I watt I learned it well, Fan I came to wan water To soum as dos the eall.
'I learned it in my mother's bour, I wiss I had learned it better, Fan I came to wan watter To sume as dos the otter.'
She touk a golden comb, Combed out her yallou hear, . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
'Far gatt ye that, ye carl's dother, I pray ye tell to me;' 'I gatt it fra my mither,' she says, 'To begulle sick sparks as ye.'
'Gin ye be a carl's gett, As I trou well ye be, Far gatt ye a' that fine clothing, To cloath yer body we?'
'My mother was an ill woman, An ill woman was she, An she gatt a' that fine clathing, Frae sick chaps as ye.'
Fan they came to our king's court, She fell lou doun on her knee: 'Win up, ye fair may, What may ye want we me?' 'Ther is a knight in your court This day has robbed me.'
'Has he robbed you of your goud? Or of your whit monie? Or of your meadnhead, The flour of your body?'
'He has no robbed me of my goud, Nor yet of my fiee, Bat he has robed me of my madinhead, The flour of my body.'
'Wad ye keen the knight, If ye did him see?' 'I wad keen him well by his well-fared face An the blieth blink of his eay.' An sighan says the king, I wiss it bine: my brother Richie!
The king called on his merry men a', By an, by tua, by three; Earl Richerd had ay ben the first, Bat the last man was he.
By that ye might a well kent The gulty man was he; She took him by the hand, Says, That same is hee.
Ther was a brand laid doun to her, A brand batt an a ring, Three times she minted to the brand, Bat she took up the ring; A' that was in the court 'S counted her a wise woman.
'I will gee ye five hundred pound, To make yer marrage we, An ye gie hame, ye carl's dother, An fash na mare we me.'
'Ye keep yer five hundred pound, To make yer marreg we, For I will ha nathing bat yer sell, The king he promised me.'
'I ill gee ye a thousand poun, To make yer marrage we, An ye gae hame, ye carl's gett, An fash na mare we me.'
'Ye keep yer thousand pound, To make yer marreg we, For I ill ha nathing batt yer sell, The king he promised me.'
He toke her doun An clothed her in green; Fan she cam up, She was fairer then the quin.
Fan they gaid to Mary Kirk, The nettels grue by dike: 'O gin my midder war hear, Sai clean as she wad them peak!'
He drue his hat out-our his eayn, The tear blinded his eay; She drue back her yallou loaks, An a light laughter luke she.
Fan she came by yon mill-toun, . . . . . . 'O well may the mill goo, An well matt she be! For aften ha ye filled my poke We the whit meall an the gray.'
'I wiss I had druken the water Fan I drank the aill, Or any carl's dother Suld ha tald me siken a teall.'
'Perhaps I am a carl's dother, Perhaps I am nean; Fan ye gatt me in frie forest, Ye sud ha latten alean.

'Take awa yer silver spons, Far awa fra me, An ye gee me t[he] ram-horn [s]pons, Them I am best used we.
'Ye take awa yer tabel-cloths, Far awa fra me, An ye gee me a mukell dish I am best used we.
'For if I had my mukel dish hear, An sayn an it war fou, I wad sup till I war sared, An sayn lay doun my head an slep like ony sou.
'Ye take away yer hollan shits, Far awa fra me, An ye bring me a cannas, It's the thing I ben eased we.'
Fan bells wer rung, an mess was sung, An a' man boun to bed, Earl Richerd an the carl's dother In a bed [were laid].
'Lay yond, lay yond, ye carl's dother, Your hot skin . . me; It setts na carl's dothers In earls' beds to be.'
'Perhaps I am a carl's dother, Perhaps I am nean; Bat fan ye gat me in free forest Ye might a latten alean.'
Up starts the Bellie Blind, Att ther bed-head: 'I think it is a meatt marrage Betuen the ane an the eather, The Earl of Heartfourds ae daughter An the Quien of England's brother.'
'If this be the Earl of Heartfourd's ae doughter, As I trust well it be, Mony a gued hors have I redden For the love of the.'