Classic Poem

Child Noryce is a clever young man,
He wavers wi the wind;
His horse was silver-shod before,
With the beaten gold behind.

He called to his little man John,
Saying, You don't see what I see;
O yonder I see the very first woman
That ever loved me.

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he said,
‘Lined with the silver grey;
You may tell her to come to the merry green-wood,
To speak to Child Nory.

‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,
‘It 's all gold but the stane;
You may tell her to come to the merry green-wood,
And ask the leave o nane.’

‘So well do I love your errand, my master,
But far better do I love my life;
O would you have me go to Lord Barnard's castle,
To betray away his wife?’

‘O do I not give you meat,’ he says,
‘And do I not pay you fee?
How dare you stop my errand?’ he says;
‘My orders you must obey.’

O when he came to Lord Bernard's castle,
He tinkled at the ring;
Who was as ready as Lord Barnard himself
To let this little boy in?

‘Here is a glove, a glove,’ he says,
‘Lined with the silver grey;
You are bidden to come to the merry green-wood,
To speak to Child Nory.

‘Here is a ring, a ring,’ he says,
‘It 's all gold but the stane;
You are bidden to come to the merry green-wood,
And ask the leave o nane.’

Lord Barnard he was standing by,
And an angry man was he:
‘O little did I think there was a lord in the world
My lady loved but me!’

O he dressed himself in the holland smock,
And garments that was gay,
And he is away to the merry greenwood,
To speak to Child Nory.

Child Noryce sits on yonder tree,
He whistles and he sings:
‘O wae be to me,’ says Child Noryce,
‘Yonder my mother comes!’

Child Noryce he came off the tree,
His mother to take off the horse:
‘Och alace, alace,’ says Child Noryce,
‘My mother was neer so gross!’

Lord Barnard he had a little small sword,
Hung low down by his knee;
He cut the head off Child Noryce,
And put the body on a tree.

And when he came home to his castell,
And to his ladie's hall,
He threw the head into her lap,
Saying, Lady, there 's a ball!

She turned up the bloody head,
She kissed it frae cheek to chin:
‘Far better do I love this bloody head
Than all my royal kin.

‘When I was in my father's castel,
In my virginity,
There came a lord into the North,
Gat Child Noryce with me.’

‘O wae he to thee, Lady Margaret,’ he sayd,
‘An ill death may you die;
For if you had told me he was your son,
He should neer have been slain by me.’