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THE BROOMFIELD HILL |
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VII
' 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.
VIII
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.
IX
' 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.'
x
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.
XI
' 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.'
XII
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,
token.
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