| 1 |
ThE king but an his nobles a'
Sat birling at the wine;
He would ha nane but his ae daughter
To wait on them at dine. |
| 2 |
She's servd them butt, she's servd them ben,
Intill a gown of green,
But her ee was ay on Brown Robin,
That stood low under the rain. |
| 3 |
She's doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she coud gang,
An there she's drawn her shot-window,
An she's harped an she sang. |
| 4 |
'There sits a bird i my father's garden,
An O but she sings sweet!
I hope to live an see the day
Whan wi my love I'll meet.' |
| 5 |
'O gin that ye like me as well
As your tongue tells to me,
What hour o the night, my lady bright,
At your bowr sal I be?' |
| 6 |
'Whan my father an gay Gilbert
Are baith set at the wine,
O ready, ready I will be
To lat my true-love in.' |
| 7 |
O she has birld her father's porter
Wi strong beer an wi wine,
Until he was as beastly drunk
As ony wild-wood swine:
She's stown the keys o her father's yates
An latten her true-love in. |
| 8 |
Whan night was gane, an day was come,
An the sun shone on their feet,
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
I'll be discoverd yet. |
| 9 |
Then out it spake that gay lady:
My love, ye need na doubt;
For wi ae wile I've got you in,
Wi anither I'll bring you out. |
| 10 |
She's taen her to her father's cellar,
As fast as she can fare;
She's drawn a cup o the gude red wine,
Hung 't low down by her gare;
An she met wi her father dear
Just coming down the stair. |
| 11 |
'I woud na gi that cup, daughter,
That ye hold i your han
For a' the wines in my cellar,
An gantrees whare the stan.' |
| 12 |
'O wae be to your wine, father,
That ever't came oer the sea;
'T' is pitten my head in sick a steer
I my bowr I canna be.' |
| 13 |
'Gang out, gang out, my daughter dear,
Gang out an tack the air;
Gang out an walk i the good green wood,
An a' your marys fair.' |
| 14 |
Then out it spake the proud porter-+-
Our lady wishd him shame-+-
'We'll send the marys to the wood,
But we'll keep our lady at hame.' |
| 15 |
'There's thirty marys i my bowr,
There's thirty o them an three;
But there's nae ane amo them a'
Kens what flowr gain for me.' |
| 16 |
She's doen her to her bigly bowr,
As fast as she could gang,
An she has dresst him Brown Robin
Like ony bowr-woman. |
| 17 |
The gown she pat upon her love
Was o the dainty green,
His hose was o the saft, saft silk,
His shoon o the cordwain fine. |
| 18 |
She's pitten his bow in her bosom,
His arrow in her sleeve,
His sturdy bran her body next,
Because he was her love. |
| 19 |
Then she is unto her bowr-door,
As fast as she coud gang;
But out it spake the proud porter-+-
Our lady wishd him shame-+-
'We'll cout our marys to the wood,
An we'll cout them back again.' |
| 20 |
The firsten mary she sent out
Was Brown Robin by name;
Then out it spake the king himsel,
'This is a sturdy dame.' |
| 21 |
O she went out in a May morning,
In a May morning so gay,
But she came never back again,
Her auld father to see. |
