| 1 |
There was a king and a noble king,
A king o' muckle fame,
And he had an only dochter dear,
Lady Diamond was her name. |
great |
| 2 |
He had a servant, a kitchie boy,
A lad o' muckle scorn,
And she loved him lang and she loved him aye
Till the grass o'er-grew the corn. |
kitchen |
| 3 |
When twenty weeks were gene and past,
Then she began to greet;
For her petticoat grew short before
And her stays they wadnae meet. |
weep |
| 4 |
Then it fell oot on a winter's nicht,
The king could get no rest;
And he has gene by his dochter's bower
Just like a wandering ghaist. |
ghost |
| 5 |
He's led her by the milk-white hand
Tae the bed-chamber within;
What ails ye, lass, that ye look sae wan,
And your apron winna pin? |
|
| 6 |
O father dear, upbraid me not,
Dinna tak' free me my joy;
For I hae forsaken your high-born lords
Tae marry your kitchie boy. |
|
| 7 |
Gae ca' to me my merry men a',
By thirty and by three;
Gae fetch to me yon kitchie boy,
We'll kill him secretly. |
|
| 8 |
There wasnae ae sound to be heard
No' another word was said,
Till they hae got him fast and sure
Between twa feather beds. |
any |
| 9 |
They've cut the hairt oot o' his white breast,
Put it in a gowden bowl;
And they've gi'en it to his lady dear
That she might her love behold. |
|
| 10 |
O come to me, my honey, my hairt,
O come to me, my joy;
O come to my, my honey, my hairt,
My ain dear kitchie boy. |
|
| 11 |
She's ta'en the heart o' her ain true love,
And she grat baith lang and sair;
Till the blood was washed by her ain saut tears
And at last she breathed nae mair. |
wept |
| 12 |
O where were ye, my good men a'
That took baith meat and fee,
That ye didnae hold my cruel hand
And keep his blood free me? |
|
| 13 |
For gane is a' my heart's delight,
And gane frae me my joy,
For my bonnie Diamond she is deid
For the love o' a kitchie boy. |
|
