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THE BROOMFIELD HILL
' For when ye gang to the Broomfield Hill,
Ye'll find your love asleep, Wi' a silver belt above his head,
And a broom-cow at his feet.
i Tak' ye the bloom frae aff the broom
Strew't at his head an' feet, And aye the thicker that ye do strew,
The sounder he will sleep.
' Tak' ye the rings aff your fingers,
Put them in his right hand, To let him know when he does wake,
His love was at his command.'
Lord John has ta'en his milk-white steed And his hawk wi' his bells sae bright,
And he 's ridden swift to the Broomfield Hill, [Was never a baulder] knight.
' Now rest, now rest, my milk-white steed.
My lady will soon be here, And I'll lay my head by this rose sae red,
And the bonny burn sae near.'
She 's pu'd the broom-flower on Hive Hill, And strew'd on 's white breast-bane,
And that was to be wittering true That maiden she had gane.
broom-cow] branch of broom. wittering] information,