Classic Poem

The Eastmure king, and the Westmure king,
And the king of Onorie,
They have all courted a pretty maid,
And guess wha she micht be.

The Eastmure king courted her for gold,
And the Westmure king for fee,
The king of Onore for womanheid,
And for her fair beautie.

The Eastmure king swore a solemn oath,
He would keep it till May,
That he would murder the king of Onore,
Upon his wedding day.

When bells was rung, and psalms was sung,
And all men boune for sleep,
Up and started the Eastmure king
At the king of Onore's head.

He has drawn the curtains by —
Their sheets was made of dorn —
And he has murdered the king of Onore,
As innocent as he was born.

This maid she awak'd in the middle of the night,
Was in a drowsy dream;
She found her bride's-bed swim with blood,
Bot and her good lord slain.

" What will the court and council say?
What will they say to me?
What will the court and council say
But this night I 've murdered thee?"

Out and speaks the Eastmure king:
" Hold your tongue, my pretty may,
And come along with me, my dear,
And that court ye 'll never see."

He mounted her on a milk-white steed,
Himself upon a gray;
She turnd her back against the court,
And weeping rode away.

" Now if you be with child," he says,
" As I trew well you be,
If it be of a lassie-bairn,
I 'll give her nurses three.

" If it be a lassie-bairn,
If you please she 'll get five;
But if it be a bonnie boy,
I will not let him live."

Word is to the city gone,
And word is to the town,
And word is to the city gone,
She 's delivered of a son.

But a poor woman in the town
In the same case does lye,
Wha gived to her her woman-child,
Took awa her bonnie boy.

At kirk or market, whereer they met,
They never durst avow,
But " Thou be kind to my boy," she says,
" I 'll be kind to your bonnie dow."

This boy was sixteen years of age,
But he was nae seventeen,
When he is to the garden gone,
To slay that Eastmure king.

" Be aware, be aware, thou Eastmure king,
Be aware this day of me;
For I do swear and do declare
Thy botcher I will be."

" What aileth thee, my bonnie boy?
What aileth thee at me?
I 'm sure I never did thee wrang;
Thy face I neer did see."

" Thou murdered my father dear,
When scarse conceived was I;
Thou murdered my father dear,
When scarse conceived was me:"
So then he slew that Eastmure king,
Beneath that garden tree.