| 1 |
Lord William was walkin i the garden green,
Viewin the roses red,
An there he spyed his bonnie spier-hawk,
Was fleein aboon his head. |
| 2 |
'O could ye speak, my bonnie spier-hawk,
As ye hae wings to flee,
Then ye wad carry a luve-letter
Atween my love an me.' |
| 3 |
'But how can I your true-love ken?
Or how can I her know?
Or how can I your true-love ken,
The face I never saw?' |
| 4 |
'Ye may esily my love ken
Amang them ye never saw;
The red that's on o my love's cheek
Is like bluid drapt on the snaw.'
* * * * * * * |
| 5 |
'O what will be my meat, master?
An what'll be my fee?
An what will be the love-tokens
That ye will send wi me?' |
| 6 |
'Ye may tell my love I'll send her a kiss,
A kiss, aye, will I three;
If ever she come [to] fair Scotland,
My wedded wife she's be. |
| 7 |
'Ye may tell my love I'll send her a kiss,
A kiss, aye, will I twae;
An ever she come to fair Scotland,
I the red gold she sall gae.'
* * * * * * * |
| 8 |
The hawk flew high, an she flew leugh,
An south aneath the sun,
Untill it cam, etc. |
| 9 |
'Sit still, sit still, my six sisters,
An sew your silken seam,
Till I gae to my bower-window
An hear yon Scottish bird sing.' |
| 10 |
Than she flew high, an she flew leugh,
An' far aboon the wa;
She drapit to that ladie's side,
An loot the letter fa. |
| 11 |
'What news, what news, my bonnie burd?
An what word carry ye?
An what are a' the love-tokens
My love has sent to me?' |
| 12 |
'O ye may send your love a kiss,
For he has sent ye three;
Ye hae the heart within his buik,
What mair can he send thee?' |
| 13 |
'O I will send my love a kiss,
A kiss, I, will I three;
If I can win to fair Scotland,
His wedded wife I'll be. |
| 14 |
'O I will send my love a kiss,
An the caim out o my hair;
He has the hart that's in my buik,
What can I send him mair? |
| 15 |
'An gae yer ways, my bonnie burd,
An tell my love frae me,
If [I] be na there gin Martinmas,
Gin Yool I there will be.'
* * * * * * * |
| 16 |
'Twas up an spak her ill step-minnie,
An ill deed may she die!
'Yer daughter Janet's taen her bed,
An she'll do nought but die.' |
| 17 |
'An askin, an askin, dear father,
An askin I crave o thee;
If I should die just at this time,
In Scotland burry me.' |
| 18 |
'There's room eneugh in wide England
To burry thee an me;
But sould ye die, my dear daughter,
I Scotland I'll burry thee.' |
| 19 |
She's warnd the wrights in lilly Londeen,
She's warnd them ane an a',
To mak a kist wi three windows,
The cauler air to blaw. |
| 20 |
'O will ye gae, my six sisters,
An sew to me a sheet,
The tae half o the silk sae fine,
The tother o cambric white.' |
| 21 |
Then they hae askit the surgeon at, etc. |
| 22 |
Then said her cruel step-minnie,
Take ye the boilin lead
An some o 't drap on her bosom;
We'll see gif she be dead. |
| 23 |
Then boilin lead than they hae taen
An drappit on her breast;
'Alas! alas!' than her father he cried,
'For she's dead without the priest!' |
| 24 |
She neither chatterd in her teeth
Nor shivert wi her chin;
'Alas! alas!' her father cried,
'For there nae life within!'
* * * * * * * |
| 25 |
'It's nine lang days, an nine lang nights,
She's wantit meat for me;
But for nine days, nine langer nights,
Her face ye salna see.' |
| 26 |
He's taen the coffin wi his fit,
Gar it in flinders flie, etc. |
| 27 |
'Fetch me,' she said, a+e cake o yer bread
An a wi drap o your wine,
For luve o you an for your sake
I've fastit lang nights nine.' |
| 28 |
'Twas up then spak an eldrin knight,
A grey-haird knight was he;
'Now ye hae left yer auld father,
For you he's like to die. |
| 29 |
'An ye hae left yer sax sisters
Lamentin a' for you;
I wiss that this, my dear ladie,
Ye near may hae to rue.' |
| 30 |
'Commend me to my auld father,
If eer ye come him niest;
But nought say to my ill step-minnie,
Gard burn me on the breist. |
| 31 |
'Commend me to my six sisters,
If ye gang bak again;
But nought say to my ill step-minnie,
Gard burn me on the chin. |
| 32 |
'Commend me to my brethren bald,
An ever ye them see;
If ever they come to fair Scotland
They's fare nae war than me. |
| 33 |
'For I cam na to fair Scotland
To lie amang the dead,
But I cam down to fair Scotland
To wear goud on my head. |
| 34 |
'Nor did I come to fair Scotland
To rot amang the clay,
But I cam to fair Scotland
To wear goud ilka day.' |
