Jamieson-Brown Manuscript, No 6, pt 15.
| 1 |
'O well's me o my gay goss-hawk,
That he can speak and flee;
He'll carry a letter to my love,
Bring back another to me.' |
| 2 |
'O how can I your true-love ken,
Or how can I her know?
Whan frae her mouth I never heard couth,
Nor wi my eyes her saw.' |
| 3 |
'O well sal ye my true-love ken,
As soon as you her see;
For, of a' the flowrs in fair Englan,
The fairest flowr is she. |
| 4 |
'At even at my love's bowr-door
There grows a bowing birk,
An sit ye down and sing thereon,
As she gangs to the kirk. |
| 5 |
'An four-an-twenty ladies fair
Will wash and go to kirk,
But well shall ye my true-love ken,
For she wears goud on her skirt. |
| 6 |
'An four and twenty gay ladies
Will to the mass repair,
But well sal ye my true-love ken,
For she wears goud on her hair.' |
| 7 |
O even at that lady's bowr-door
There grows a bowin birk,
And she set down and sang thereon,
As she ged to the kirk. |
| 8 |
'O eet and drink, my marys a',
The wine flows you among,
Till I gang to my shot-window,
An hear yon bonny bird's song. |
| 9 |
'Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The song ye sang the streen,
For I ken by your sweet singin
You're frae my true-love sen.' |
| 10 |
O first he sang a merry song,
An then he sang a grave,
An then he peckd his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave. |
| 11 |
'Ha, there's a letter frae your love,
He says he sent you three;
He canna wait your love langer,
But for your sake he'll die. |
| 12 |
'He bids you write a letter to him;
He says he's sent you five;
He canno wait your love langer,
Tho you're the fairest woman alive.' |
| 13 |
'Ye bid him bake his bridal-bread,
And brew his bridal-ale,
An I'll meet him in fair Scotlan
Lang, lang or it be stale.' |
| 14 |
She's doen her to her father dear,
Fa'n low down on her knee:
'A boon, a boon, my father dear,
I pray you, grant it me.' |
| 15 |
'Ask on, ask on, my daughter,
An granted it sal be;
Except ae squire in fair Scotlan,
An him you sall never see.' |
| 16 |
'The only boon, my father dear,
That I do crave of the,
Is, gin I die in southin lands,
In Scotland to bury me. |
| 17 |
'An the firstin kirk that ye come till,
Ye gar the bells be rung,
An the nextin kirk that ye come till,
Ye gar the mess be sung. |
| 18 |
'An the thirdin kirk that ye come till,
You deal gold for my sake,
An the fourthin kirk that ye come till,
You tarry there till night.' |
| 19 |
She is doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she coud fare,
An she has tane a sleepy draught,
That she had mixed wi care. |
| 20 |
She's laid her down upon her bed,
An soon she's fa'n asleep,
And soon oer every tender limb
Cauld death began to creep. |
| 21 |
Whan night was flown, an day was come,
Nae ane that did her see
But thought she was as surely dead
As ony lady coud be. |
| 22 |
Her father an her brothers dear
Gard make to her a bier;
The tae half was o guide red gold,
The tither o silver clear. |
| 23 |
Her mither an her sisters fair
Gard work for her a sark;
The tae half was o cambrick fine,
The tither o needle wark. |
| 24 |
The firstin kirk that they came till,
They gard the bells be rung,
An the nextin kirk that they came till,
They gard the mess be sung. |
| 25 |
The thirdin kirk that they came till,
They dealt gold for her sake,
An the fourthin kirk that they came till,
Lo, there they met her make! |
| 26 |
'Lay down, lay down the bigly bier,
Lat me the dead look on;'
Wi cherry cheeks and ruby lips
She lay an smil'd on him. |
| 27 |
'O ae sheave o your bread, true-love,
An ae glass o your wine,
For I hae fasted for your sake
These fully days is nine. |
| 28 |
'Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers,
Gang hame and sound your horn;
An ye may boast in southin lans
Your sister's playd you scorn.' |
