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' But I am mourning in my mood That ever I left my mother good.
' But, bonny boy, come tell to me What is the custom o' your countrie ?'
' The custom thereof, my dame,' he says,
' Will ill a gentle ladye please.
' Seven King's daughters has our lord wedded, And seven King's daughters has our lord bedded:
' But he 's cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane, And sent them mourning hame again.
' But when you come to the palace yett, His mother a gowden chair will set:
' And be you maid or be you nane, O sit you there till the day be dane.
' And gin you're sure that you're a maid, Ye may gae safely him to wed:
' But gif o' that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsel o' your bour.'—
O when she came to the palace yett, His mother a gowden chair did set: