Chrystis Kirk on the Grene

Was nevir in Scotland hard nor sene
Sic dansing nor deray,
Nowthir at Falkland on the grene
Nor Peblis at the play,
As wes of wowaris, as I wene,
At Chryst kirk on ane day.
Thair come our kitteis weschin clene
In thair new kirtillis of gray,
Full gay,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

To dans thir damysellis thame dicht,
Thir lassis licht of laitis,
Thair gluvis wes of the raffell rycht,
Thair schone wes of the straitis;
Thair kirtillis wer of lynkome licht,
Weill prest with mony plaitis.
Thay wer so nyss quhen men thame nicht
Thay squeilit lyk ony gaitis,
So lowd,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene that day.

Of all thir madynis myld as meid
Wes nane so gympt as Gillie;
As ony ross hir rude wes reid,
Hir lyre wes lyk the lillie;
Fow yellow yellow wes hir heid,
Bot scho of lufe wes sillie;
Thocht all hir kin had sworn hir deid
Scho wald haif bot sweit Willie
Allone,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Scho skornit Jok and skraipit at him,
And mvrionit him with mokkis;
He wald haif luvit, scho wald nocht lat him,
For all his yallow loikkis:
He chereist hir, scho bad ga chat him;
Scho compt him nocht twa clokkis;
So schamefully his schort goun set him,
His lymmis wes lyk twa rokkis,
Scho said,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Thome Lular wes thair menstrall meit;
O Lord! as he cowd lanss;
He playit so schill, and sang so sweit
Quhill Towsy tuke a transs.
Auld Lychtfute thair he did forleit,
And counterfutit Franss;
He vse him-self as man discreit
And vp tuke moreiss danss,
Full lowd,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Than Stevin come stoppand in with stendis;
No rynk mycht him arreist.
Platfute he bobbit vp with bendis;
For Maid he maid requeist.
His lap quhill he lay on his lendis;
Bot rysand he wes preist
Quhill that he oistit at bath the endis
For honour of the feist,
That day,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Syne Robene Roy begowth to revell,
And Dwny till him druggit;
“Lat be,” quo Jok; and cawd him javell
And be the taill him tuggit.
The kensy cleikit to the cavell,
Bot Lord! than gif thay luggit,
Thay pairtit hir manly with a nevell,
God wait gif hair wes ruggit
Betuix thame,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Ane bent a bow, sic sturt cowd steir him;
Grit skayth wesd to haif skard him;
He chesit a flane as did affeir him,
The toder said “Dirdum Dardum.”
Throwch baith the cheikis he thocht to cheir him,
Or throw the erss haif chard him;
Bot be ane akerbraid it come nocht neir him,
I can nocht tell quhat mard him,
Thair,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

With that a freynd of his cryd “Fy!”
And vp ane arrow drew;
He forgit so fowriously
The bow in flenders flew;
Sa wes the will of God, trow I,
For had the tre bene trew
Men said that kend his archery
That he had slane anew,
That day,
At Chrystis kirk on the grene.

Ane hasty hensure callit Hary,
Quha wes ane archer heynd,
Tilt vp a taikle withowttin tary,
That torment so him teynd.
I wait nocht quhidder his hand cowd wary,
Or the man wes his freynd,
For he eschaipit throw michtis of Mary
As man that no ill meynd,
Bot gud,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Than Lowry as ane lyon lap,
And sone a flane cowd fedder;
He hecht to perss him at the pap,
Thair-on to wed a weddir.
He hit him on the wame a wap,
It buft lyk ony bledder;
Bot swa his fortoun wes and hap
His dowblet wes maid of ledder,
And saift him,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

A yaip yung man that stude him neist
Lowsd of a schot with yre;
He ettlit the bern in at the breist,
The bolt flew our the byre.
Ane cryit Fy! he had slane a preist
A myll beyond ane myre;
Than bow and bag fra him he keist
And fled as ferss as fyre
Of flynt,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

With forkis and flailis thay lait grit flappis,
And flang togiddir lyk friggis;
With bowgaris of barnis thay beft blew kappis
Quhill thay of bernis maid briggis.
The reird raiss rudly with the rappis,
Quhen rungis wes layd on riggis;
The wyffis come furth with cryis and clappis,
“Lo quhair my lyking liggis!”
Quo thay
At Chryst kirk of the grene.

Thay girnit and lait gird with granis
Ilk gossep vder grevit;
Sum straik with stingis, sum gadderit stanis,
Sum fled and evill mischevit;
The menstrall wan within twa wanis,
That day full weill he previt,
For he come hame with vnbirsed banis
Quhair fechtaris wer mischevit
For evir,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Heich Hucheoun, with a hissill ryss,
To red can throw thame rummill;
He mudlet thame doun lyk ony myss,
He wes no barty-bummill.
Thocht he wes wicht he wes nocht wyss
With sic jangleris to jummill,
For fra his thowme thay dang a sklyss,
Quhill he cryd “Barla-fummyll!
I am slane,”
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Quhen that he saw his blude so reid,
To fle micht no man lat him;
He wend it bene for auld done feid,
The far sarar it set him.
He gart his feit defend his heid,
He thocht ane cryd haif at him,
Quhill he wes past out of all pleid
He suld bene swift that gat him
Throw speid,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

The toun sowtar in greif wes bowdin,
His wyfe hang in his waist;
His body wes with blud all browdin,
He granit lyk ony gaist.
Hir glitterand hair that wes full goldin
So hard in lufe him lest
That for hir saik he wes nocht yoldin,
Sevin myll quhill he wes chest,
And mair,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

The millar wes of manly mak;
To meit him wes na mowis;
Thair durst nocht ten cum him to tak,
So nowit he thair nowis.
The buschment haill about him brak
And bikkerit him with bowis,
Syne tratourly behind his bak
Thay hewit him on the howiss
Behind,
At Chrystis kirk of the grene.

Twa that wes heidmen of the heird
Ran vpoun vtheris lyk rammis;
Than followit feymen rycht on affeird,
Bet on with barrow trammis.
Bot quhair thair gobbis wes vngeird
Thay gat vpoun the gammis,
Quhill bludy berkit wes thair beird;
As thay had wirreit lammis,
Maist lyk,
At Chryst kirk of the grene.

The wyvis kest vp ane hiddouss yell
Quhen all thir yunkeris yokkit;
Als ferss as ony fyr-flaught fell
Freikis to the feild thay flokkit:
Tha cairlis with clubbis cowd vder quell,
Quhill blud at breistis out bokkit.
So rudly rang the commoun bell,
Quhill all the stepill rokkit
For reird,
At Christis kirk of the grene.

Quhen thay had berit lyk baitit bulis,
And branewod brynt in bailis,
Thay wer als meik as ony mvlis
That mangit wer with mailis.
For fantness tha forfochin fulis
Fell doun lyk flawchtir-failis,
And freschmen come in and held thair dulis,
And dang thame doun in dailis
Be-dene,
At Chryst kirk on the grene.

Quhen all wes done, Dik with ane aix
Come furth to fell a fidder.
Quod he, “Quhair ar yone hangit smaix
Rycht now wald slane my bruder?”
His wyfe bade him ga hame gub-glaikis,
And sa did Meg his muder.
He turnd and gaif thaim bayth thair paikis,
For he durst ding nane vdir,
For feir,
At Chryst kirk of the grene that day.