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Robin Hood's Courtship with Jack Cade's Daughter

“Brume, brume on ze hill,
“Brume on ze hill for me, oh;
“Ye blossomis of ze zellow brume,
“Are pleasan for to zee, oh.”
My native hill is dychte wi fleuris,
Sae blomand for to view, oh,
With aureat glades of sucred brume,
An’ nows of heathery blue, oh.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Ze medis are brusit by ze fays,
Wi guildis and gowands rair, oh,
An ze wilde thyme’s sweet smelling breath,
Upon zair wings zai bair, oh.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Als in my bower of eglantyne,
Under ze lynden tree, oh,
I heir ze little burdis sing,
In zair quaeint mynstrelsie, oh.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
An zee ze burne with birran birr,
Between its cleuchis rin, oh,
An after mony lynkis dreich,
Gae loup into ze lyn, oh.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Ze waters of ze loch zat rest,
In undisturbed repose;
Zat stillis the noyis of my heart,
An soothis all my wois.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
God wot zat troubled moche am I,
An painet grievouslie,
Quhan on my faytheri’s deathe I thinke,
Which causit wes by me.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
An must I leave my bonie woodis
To gang alang wi zee;
Gae, gae your wais ze fair younge manne;
It canna, manna be.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
“Town, town, for my monie
“Ze town it is for me, oh!
“Ye raffan raket of ze town,
“Wassail and revelrie, oh!”
Ze stately fortellis of ze town,
So pertlie stand on hie,
And als ze gentlis proud demaynes
Zat leukis sae hawtandlie.
                                                       Town, town, &c.
Ze schoppis zat wi guidis full,
Bot ask us for to bie;
Alswa ze tavernis whar ze birle,
Ze red wine plenteouslie.
                                                       Town, town, &c.
Ze schippis zat sailis on ze sea,
Ar fraucht fra fremyt lan;
We wrak of costlyk flagaries,
Baith nippertie an gran.
                                                       Town, town, &c.
Ze nonnes quhae lukis outwardlie,
Yclad wi modestie;
Ze freirs als quho pure of saul,
Lernis yame vennerie.
                                                       Town, town, &c.
An zairs ze hallis of nobil knychts,
Quhare lyart mynstrellis plaies,
An singis for yair lordis delyte,
Ze feychtes of olden daies
                                                       Town, town, &c.
Als in zat hallis ze plaeirs too,
Awand yair mysterie,
Or bawde interlude befoir
Ze nobil companie.
                                                       Town, town, &c.
An eke the lymmit gleemen, too,
Quhase gympis makis delycht,
Quhan on ze zearly minnyng daies,
He sporttes all ze nycht.
                                                       Town, town, &c.
So come along wi me, my luve,
So come along wi me, oh;
An I will tak zou to ze town,
Thae joly sichts to ze, oh.
                                                       Town, town, &c.
Quhat car I for zour fortellis,
Your schoppis and demayne, sir:
I wad na gie my bourik shade,
For all zour walth an gane, sir.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Ane quaff fra out ze chrystal burne,
Gat pearlis dernelie, sir,
Is better far zan a’ zour wine
Zat ze birle plenteouslie, sir.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Ze little skiffe upon ze loch,
More pleasan is to me, sir;
Zan zour outlandis shippis zat
Come from ayont ze zee, sir.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Zour nonnes an frieris may defoul
Yaimselves, but sal not me, sir;
Zair sadde defames I doe reggret,
But nevir wus to see, sir.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Zour mynstrellis quently carpit rymes
May give delychte to you, sir;
Ze throstle is my quirister,
And singis me anew, sir.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Ze rural sportis of ze swankis,
More pleasan are to view, sir,
Zan mysteries of playeis leude,
An eke zour gleemen, too, sir.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Its gif you luve me as you say,
You wad not leave this shade, sir
Bot zou wad live my Robin Hood,
An I zour Joan Cade, Sir.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
An I will nevir from ze part,
Bot live within this wode, oh,
An since you will be my Joan Cade,
Ise be your Robin Hood, oh.
                                                        Brume, brume, &c.
Additional Information:
Preface to the 1888 edition written by Thomas George Stevenson.