'Go, you try, master,' says Little John, 'Go, you try, master, most speedilie, Or by my body,' says Little John, 'I am sure this night you will not know me.'
Then Robin Hood he drew his sword, And the pedlar by his pack did stand, They fought till the blood in streams did flow, Till he cried, 'Pedlar, pray hold your hand!'
'Pedlar, pedlar! what is thy name?
Come speedilie and tell to me.'
'My name! my name, I ne'er will tell, Till both your names you have told to me.'
'The one of us is bold Robin Hood, And the other Little John, so free.'
'Now,' says the pedlar, 'it lays to my good will, Whether my name I chuse to tell to thee.
'I am Gamble Gold of the gay green woods, And travelled far beyond the sea;For killing a man in my father's land, From my country I was forced to flee.'
'If you are Gamble Gold of the gay green woods, And travelled far beyond the sea, You are my mother's own sister's son;What nearer cousins then can we be?'
They sheathed their swords with friendly words, So merrily they did agree;They went to a tavern and there they dined, And bottles cracked most merrilie.
Ballad: THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT.
[THIS is the common English stall copy of a ballad of which there are a variety of versions, for an account of which, and of the presumed origin of the story, the reader is referred to the notes on the WATER O' WEARIE'S WELL, in the SCOTTISH TRADITIONAL VERSIONSOF ANCIENT BALLADS, published by the Percy Society. By the term 'outlandish' is signified an inhabitant of that portion of the border which was formerly known by the name of 'the Debateable Land,' a district which, though claimed by both England and Scotland, could not be said to belong to either country. The people on each side of the border applied the term 'outlandish' to the Debateable residents. The tune to THE OUTLANDISH KNIGHT has never been printed; it is peculiar to the ballad, and, from its popularity, is well known.]
AN Outlandish knight came from the North lands, And he came a wooing to me;He told me he'd take me unto the North lands, And there he would marry me.
'Come, fetch me some of your father's gold, And some of your mother's fee;And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stand thirty and three.'
She fetched him some of her father's gold, And some of the mother's fee;And two of the best nags out of the stable, Where they stood thirty and three.
She mounted her on her milk-white steed, He on the dapple grey;They rode till they came unto the sea side, Three hours before it was day.
'Light off, light off thy milk-white steed, And deliver it unto me;Six pretty maids have I drowned here, And thou the seventh shall be.
'Pull off, pull off thy silken gown, And deliver it unto me, Methinks it looks too rich and too gay To rot in the salt sea.
'Pull off, pull of thy silken stays, And deliver them unto me;Methinks they are too fine and gay To rot in the salt sea.
'Pull off, pull off thy Holland smock, And deliver it unto me;Methinks it looks too rich and gay, To rot in the salt sea.'
'If I must pull off my Holland smock, Pray turn thy back unto me, For it is not fitting that such a ruffian A naked woman should see.'
He turned his back towards her, And viewed the leaves so green;She catched him round the middle so small, And tumbled him into the stream.
He dropped high, and he dropped low, Until he came to the side, -'Catch hold of my hand, my pretty maiden, And I will make you my bride.'
'Lie there, lie there, you false-hearted man, Lie there instead of me;Six pretty maids have you drowned here, And the seventh has drowned thee.'
She mounted on her milk-white steed, And led the dapple grey, She rode till she came to her own father's hall, Three hours before it was day.
The parrot being in the window so high, Hearing the lady, did say, 'I'm afraid that some ruffian has led you astray, That you have tarried so long away.'
'Don't prittle nor prattle, my pretty parrot, Nor tell no tales of me;Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, Although it is made of a tree.'
The king being in the chamber so high, And hearing the parrot, did say, 'What ails you, what ails you, my pretty parrot, That you prattle so long before day?'
'It's no laughing matter,' the parrot did say, 'But so loudly I call unto thee;For the cats have got into the window so high, And I'm afraid they will have me.'
'Well turned, well turned, my pretty parrot, Well turned, well turned for me;Thy cage shall be made of the glittering gold, And the door of the best ivory.' Ballad: LORD DELAWARE. (TRADITIONAL.)
[THIS interesting traditional ballad was first published by Mr.
Thomas Lyle in his ANCIENT BALLADS AND SONGS, London, 1827. 'We have not as yet,' says Mr. Lyle, 'been able to trace out the historical incident upon which this ballad appears to have been founded; yet those curious in such matters may consult, if they list, PROCEEDINGS AND DEBATES IN THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, for 1621 and 1662, where they will find that some stormy debating in these several years had been agitated in parliament regarding the corn laws, which bear pretty close upon the leading features of the ballad.' Does not the ballad, however, belong to a much earlier period? The description of the combat, the presence of heralds, the wearing of armour, &c., justify the conjecture. For De la Ware, ought we not to read De la Mare? and is not Sir Thomas De la Mare the hero? the De la Mare who in the reign of Edward III., A.D.
1377, was Speaker of the House of Commons. All historians are agreed in representing him as a person using 'great ******* of speach,' and which, indeed, he carried to such an extent as to endanger his personal liberty. As bearing somewhat upon the subject of the ballad, it may he observed that De la Mare was a great advocate of popular rights, and particularly protested against the inhabitants of England being subject to 'purveyance,'
