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388 |
SKICEN ANNA; FAIR ANNIE. |
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" That well ye may," his mither said;
But see that ye're buskit bra', 130
And clad ye in your best cleading,
Wi' your bower maidens a'."
Fair Annie she's gaen to the bower,
Wi' heart fu' sair and sad; Wi' a' her seven sons her before, us
In the red scarlet clad.
Fair Annie's taen a silver can,
Afore the bride to skink; And down her cheeks the tears ay run,
Upon hersell to think. i«
The bride gan stand her lord before:
" Now speak, and dinna spare; Whare is this fair young lady frae ?
Whareto greets she sae sair ? "
" O hear ye now, dear lady mine, ms
The truth I tell to thee; It is but a bonny niece of mine,
That is come o'er the sea."
" O wae is me, my lord," she says,
" To hear you say sic wrang; i»
It can be nane but your auld lemman;
God rede whare she will gang !"
" Then till her sorrow, and till her wae,
I'll tell the truth to thee; For she was said frae fremmit lands, iss
For mickle goud to me. |
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