Classic Poem

May Margret stood in her bouer door,
Kaiming doun her yellow hair;
She spied some nuts growin in the wud,
And wishd that she was there.

She has plaited her yellow locks
A little abune her bree,
And she has kilted her petticoats
A little below her knee,
And she 's aff to Mulberry wud,
As fast as she could gae.

She had na pu'd a nut, a nut,
A nut but barely ane,
Till up started the Hynde Etin,
Says, Lady, let thae alane!

" Mulberry wuds are a' my ain;
My father gied them me,
To sport and play when I thought lang;
And they sall na be tane by thee."

And ae she pu'd the tither berrie,
Na thinking o the skaith,
And said, To wrang ye, Hynde Etin,
I wad be unco laith.

But he has tane her by the yellow locks,
And tied her till a tree,
And said, For slichting my commands,
An ill death sall ye dree.

He pu'd a tree out o the wud,
The biggest that was there,
And he howkit a cave monie fathoms deep,
And put May Margret there.

" Now rest ye there, ye saucie may;
My wuds are free for thee;
And gif I tak ye to mysell,
The better ye 'll like me."

Na rest, na rest May Margret took,
Sleep she got never nane;
Her back lay on the cauld, cauld floor,
Her head upon a stane.

" O tak me out," May Margret cried,
" O tak me hame to thee,
And I sall be your bounden page
Until the day I dee."

He took her out o the dungeon deep,
And awa wi him she 's gane;
But sad was the day an earl's dochter
Gaed hame wi Hynde Etin.


It fell out ance upon a day
Hynde Etin 's to the hunting gane,
And he has tane wi him his eldest son,
For to carry his game.

" O I wad ask ye something, father,
An ye wadna angry be;"
" Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me."

" My mother's cheeks are aft times weet,
Alas! they are seldom dry;"
" Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho she should brast and die.

" For your mother was an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now she 's wife o Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.

" But we 'll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree,
And ye 'll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she 'll comforted be."


" I wad ask ye something, mother,
An ye wadna angry be; "
" Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me."

" Your cheeks they are aft times weet,
Alas! they 're seldom dry;"
" Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho I should brast and die.

" For I was ance an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame."