"Come ben, come ben, my sister dear, "Ae bit I canna eat, sister, "O where are all my rangers bold, To search the forest far and wide, But out then spak the little wee boy, "O here I grant a free pardon, Weel sealed by my own hand, And see make search for Hynde Etin, As sure as e'er ye can." They searched the country wide and braid The forests far and near, Till they found him into Elmond wood, Tearing his yellow hair. "Win up, win up, now, Hynde Etin- We're messengers sent frae the court- "O let him tak frae me the head, Or hang me on a tree; For sin I'se lost my dear Margaret, Life's nae pleasure to me." "Your head will nae be touched, Etin, Nor hanged upon a tree; Your leddy's in her father's court, And all she wants is thee." When in he came before the king, "Win up, win up, now, Hynde Etin, This day ye'se dine wi' me." But as they were at dinner set, "I wis we were in the good kirk, “We hae liv'd in gude greenwood "Your asking's nae sae great, my boy, This day to gude church ye sall gang, When unto the gude church she cam, She was sae sair sunk down wi' shame, Then out it speaks the parish priest- "Come ben, come ben, my lily flouir, But they staid lang in royal court, And when her father was deceased, THE FAIRY QUEEN. Come follow me, follow me, You fairy elves that be- Come follow Mab your Queene. When mortals are at rest, Through key-holes we do glide; Anonymous. And if the house be foul, There we pinch their armes and thighes; But if the house be swept, For we use before we goe, Upon a mushroom's head The brains of nightingales, Is meat that's easily chew'd; The grasshopper, gnat, and fly And so the time beguile : And if the moone doth hide her head, On tops of dewie grasse Ne'er bends when we do walk; Yet in the morning may be seene Anonymous, about the year 1600 And make good sport with ho, ho, ho! More swift than lightning can I flye About the aery welkin soone, And in a minute's space descrye Each thing that's done belowe the moone. Whene'er such wanderers I meete, As from their night-sports they trudge home, With counterfeiting voice I greete, And call them on with me to roame. Thro' woods, thro' lakes, Thro' bogs, thro' brakes; Or else, unseene, with them I go, |