|Share page||Visit Us On FB|
" O byde at hame, my gude Lord Weire,
I weird ye byde at hame ; Gang na to this day's hunting,
To leave me a' alane. a>
" Yae night, yae night, I dreamt this bower
0 red, red blude was fu';
Gin ye gang to this black hunting,
1 sail hae cause to rue."
" Wha looks to dreams, my winsome dame ? 25
Nae cause hae ye to fear: " And syne he kindly kissed her cheek,
And syne the starting tear.
Now to the gude green-wood he's gane, She to her painted bower; 30
But first she closed the windows and doors Of the castle, ha', and tower.
They steeked doors, they steeked yetts,
Close to the cheek and chin ; They steeked them a' but a wee wicket, sa
And Lammikin crap in.
" Where are the lads o' this castle ? "
Says the Lammikin ; " They are a' wi Lord Weire, hunting,"
The false nourice did sing. *>
" Where are the lasses o' this castle ? "
Says the Lammikin ; " They are a' out at the washing,"
The false nourice did sing.