"And some they whistled, and some they sung, Hey down down! And some did loudly say Ever as Lord Barnet's horn blew, Away Musgrave, away."
There are several Scottish versions, in which the reciters have altered the locality. Jamieson has printed one which he calls _Lord Barnaby_ (_Popular Ballads and Songs_, i. 170). He states that he had heard it repeated both in Morayshire and in the southern counties.
Motherwell gives the air in his _Minstrelsy_ which he noted down from oral communication, and this verse--
"It fell upon a Martinmas time When the nobles were a drinking wine, That little Mushiegrove to the kirk he did go For to see the ladies come in."
Mr. J. H. Dixon includes a version entitled _Lord Burnett and_ _Little Munsgrove_ in his Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads (Percy Society, vol. xvii.)
Home adopted the name of Lady Barnard in his _Douglas_ before he took that of Lady Randolph, see No. 18, Gil Morrice.
There is another ballad called _The Bonny Birdy_, with a similar story. Jamieson (i. 162) prints it and alters the title to _Lord_ _Randal_.]
As it fell out on a highe holye daye, As many bee in the yeare, When yong men and maides together do goe Their masses and mattins to heare,
Little Musgràve came to the church door, 5 The priest was at the mass; But he had more mind of the fine womèn, Then he had of our Ladyes grace.
And some of them were clad in greene, And others were clad in pall; 10 And then came in my lord Barnardes wife, The fairest among them all.
Shee cast an eye on little Musgràve As bright as the summer sunne: O then bethought him little Musgràve, 15 This ladyes heart I have wonne.
Quoth she, I have loved thee, little Musgràve, Fulle long and manye a daye. So have I loved you, ladye faire, Yet word I never durst saye. 20
I have a bower at Bucklesford-Bury,[225] Full daintilye bedight, If thoult wend thither, my little Musgràve, Thoust lig in mine armes all night.
Quoth hee, I thanke yee, ladye faire, 25 This kindness yee shew to mee; And whether it be to my weale or woe, This night will I lig with thee.
All this beheard a litle foot-page, By his ladyes coach as he ranne: 30 Quoth he, thoughe I am my ladyes page, Yet Ime my lord Barnardes manne.