Glasgerion [Jack Orion]
Anonymous
Original | Jack Orion |
GLASGERION [JACK ORION] Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne, And a harper he was good, He harped in the kings chamber Where cappe and candle yoode, And soe did hee in the Queens chamber Till ladies waxed wood. And then bespake the Kings daughter, And these words thus sayd shee [...] Saide, Strike on, strike on, Glasgerrion, Of thy striking doe not blinne, Theres neuer a stroke comes ouer this harpe But it glads my hart within. Faire might you fall, Lady, quoth hee; Who taught you now to speake? I haue loued you, Lady, seuen yeere, My hart I durst neere breake. But come to my bower, my Glasgerryon, When all men are att rest; As I am a ladie true of my promise, Thou shalt bee a welcome guest. But hom then came Glasgerryon, A glad man, Lord, was hee; And come thou hither, Jacke, my boy, Come hither vnto mee. For the kings daughter of Normandye Her loue is granted mee, And before the cocke haue crowen Att her chamber must I bee. But come you hither, Master, quoth hee, Lay your head downe on this stone, For I will waken you, Master deere, Afore it be time to gone. But vpp then rose that lither ladd, And did on hose and shoone; A coller he cast vpon his necke, He seemed a gentleman. And when he came to that Ladies chamber He thrild vpon a pinn, The Lady was true of her promise, Rose vp and lett him in. He did not take the lady gay To boulster nor noe bedd, But downe vpon her chamber flore Full soone he hath her layd. He did not kisse that Lady gay When he came nor when he youd; And sore mistrusted that Lady gay He was of some churles blood. But home then came that lither ladd, And did of his hose and shoone, And cast that coller from about his necke, He was but a churles sonne. Awaken, quoth hee, my Master deere, I hold it time to be gone, [...] For I haue sadled your horsse, Master, Well bridled I haue your steed; Haue not I served a good breakfast When times comes I haue need. But vp then rose good Glasgerryon, And did on both hose and shoone, And cast a coller about his necke, He was a Kinges sonne. And when he came to that Ladies chamber He thrild vpon a pinn; The Lady was more then true of promise, Rose vp and let him in: Saies, Whether haue you left with me Your braclett or your gloue, Or are you returned backe againe To know more of my loue? Glasgerryon swore a full great othe By oake and ashe and thorne: Lady!, I was neuer in your chamber Sith the time that I was borne. O then it was your litle ffoote-page Falsly hath beguiled me [...] And then she pulld forth a litle pen-kniffe That hanged by her knee; Says, There shall never noe churles blood Spring within my body. But home then went Glasgerryon, A woe man, good Lord, was hee, Saies, Come hither, thou Iacke my boy, Come thou hither to me. For if I had killed a man to-night, Iacke, I wold tell it thee; But if I haue not killed a man to-night, Iacke, thou hast killed three! | JACK ORION Jack Orion was as good a fiddler As ever fiddled on a string He could make young women mad To the tune his fiddle would sing He could fiddle the fish out of salt water Or water from a marble stone Or milk from out of a maiden's breast Though baby she'd got none He's taken his fiddle into his hand He's fiddled and he's sung And oft he's fiddled unto the King Who never thought it long And he sat fiddling in the castle hall He's played them all so sound asleep All but for the young princess And for love she stayed awake And first he played at a slow grave tune And then a gay one flew And many's the sigh and loving word That passed between the two Come to my bower, sweet Jack Orion When all men are at rest As I am a lady true to my word Thou shalt be a welcome guest He's lapped his fiddle in a cloth of green A glad man, Lord, was he Then he's run off to his own house Says, Tom come hither unto me When day has dawned and the cocks have crown And flapped their wings so wide I am bidden to that lady's door To stretch out by her side Lie down in your bed, dear master And sleep as long as you may I'll keep good watch and awaken you Three hours before 'tis day But the rose up that worthless lad His master's clothes did don A collar he's cast about his neck He seemed the gentleman Well he didn't take that lady gay To bolster nor to bed But down upon the bower floor He quickly had her laid And he neither kissed her when he came Nor when from her he did go And in and out of her window The moon like a coal did glow Ragged are your stockings love Stubbly is your cheek and chin And tangled is that yellow hair That I saw yestereen The stockings belong to my boy Tom They're the first come to my hand The wind has tangled my yellow hair As I rode o'er the land Tom took his fiddle into his hand So saucy there he sang Then he's off back to his master's house As fast as he could run Wake up, wake up my good master I fear 'tis almost dawn Wake up, wake up the cock has crowed 'Tis time that you were gone Then quickly rose up Jack Orion Put on his cloak and shoon And cast a collar about his neck He was a lord's true son And when he came to the lady's bower He lightly rattled the pin The lady was true to her word She rose and let him in Oh whether have you left with me Your bracelet or your glove? Or are you returned back again To know more of my love? Jack Orion swore a bloody oath By oak and ash and bitter thorn Saying, lady I never was in your house Since the day that I was born Oh then it was your young footpage That has so cruelly beguiled me And woe that the blood of the ruffian lad Should spring in my body Then she pulled forth a little sharp knife That hung down at her knee O'er her white feet the red blood ran Or ever a hand could stay And dead she lay on her bower floor At the dawning of the day Jack Orion ran to his own house Saying, Tom my boy come here to me Come hither now and I'll pay your fee And well paid you shall be If I had killed a man tonight Tom I would tell it thee But if I have taken no life tonight Tom thou hast taken three Then he pulled out his bright brown sword And dried it on his sleeve And he smote off that vile lad's head And asked for no man's leave He set the sword's point to his breast The pommel to a stone Through the falseness of that lying lad These three lives were all gone. |