Motherwell's Note-Book, pp 27-30, Motherwell's Manuscript, pp
415-17; from Agnes Laird, Kilbarchan, August 24, 1825.
| 1 |
'O where'll I get a pretty little bird
That'll go my errand soon,
That will fly to the Queen of England's dochter,
And bid my trew-luve come?' |
| 2 |
'Here am I, a pretty little bird,
That'll go your errands soon,
That will fly to the Queen of England's daughter,
And bid your trew-luve come.' |
| 3 |
This wee birdie's taken its flight,
And it's flown owre the sea,
Until it cam to the Queen of England's daughter;
She's sitting in her bower-windie. |
| 4 |
Then out bespoke these nine ladies,
As they sat in a ring:
'O we'll awa to the west window,
To hear this birdie sing.' |
| 5 |
This wee birdie's taken its flight,
And it's flown owre them a',
And at the lady's left shoulder
It loot a letter fa. |
| 6 |
She has taken the letter up,
And read it speedilie:
'O mother, the queen, O mother, the queen,
Grant this request to me;
Whenever I do chance for to die,
In Scotland gar bury me.'
* * * * * |
| 7 |
'Bring to me the red, red lead,
And rub it on her chin;
It's Oh and alace for my dochter Janet!
But there is not a breath within. |
| 8 |
'Bring to me the red, red lead,
And rub it on her toe;
It's Oh and alace for my daughter Janet!
To Scotland she must go.' |
| 9 |
'Rise up, rise up, ye seven sisters,
And make her winding sheet,
With the one side of the beaten gold,
And the other o the needle-wark. |
| 10 |
'Rise up, rise up, ye seven brethren,
And make her carriage-bier,
With the one side of the beaten gold,
And the other o the silver clear.' |
| 11 |
'They've carried east, they've carried west,
They've carried her high and low,
Until that they came to the king of Scotland,
Was sitting in his bower-window. |
| 12 |
'Here is a token of your trew-love,
And here is a token come down,
For she is dead, and she's ready to be buried,
And she wants to be laid in your ground.' |
| 13 |
He's taen out his mickle knife,
And tore her winding sheet,
And there she lay like the crimson red,
And she smiled in his face so sweet. |
| 14 |
'Go home, go home, you seven brethren,
Go home and saw your corn,
For she if fit for the queen of Scotland now,
And she's gien you the scorn. |
| 15 |
'Go home, go home, you seven sisters,
Go home and sew your seam,
For she is fit for the queen of Scotland now,
And she's ready to be my queen.' |
