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O the firsten step she steppit, She steppit on a stane;
But the neisten step she steppit, She met him Lamkin.
O mercy, mercy, Lamkin, Hae mercy upon me ! Though you hae ta'en my young son's life, Ye may let mysel' be.'—
' O sail I kill her, nourice,
Or sail I lat her be ? -— ' O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,
For she ne'er was good to me.'—
' O scour the bason, nourice,
And mak' it fair and clean, For to keep this lady's heart's blood,
For she 's come o' noble kin.'—
' There need nae bason, Lamkin,
Lat it run through the floor; What better is the heart's blood
O' the rich than o' the poor ?'
But ere three months were at an end,
Lord Wearie came again ; But dowie, dowie was his heart
When first he came hame.
dowie] heavy, sorrowful.