"For I fear that you are slain!" "Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, That shines in the water sae plain." O they rade on, and on they rade, Until they cam' to his mother's ha' door, "Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, Get up, get up, lady mother," he says, "O mak my bed, lady mother," he says, And lay Lady Marg'ret close at my back, Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, And all true lovers that go thegither, Lord William was buried in St. Mary's kirk, Out o' the lady's grave grew a bonny red rose, And they twa met, and they twa plat, And a' the warld might ken right weel They were twa lovers dear. But by and rade the Black Douglas, Unknown FAIR ANNIE THE reivers they stole Fair Annie, As she walked by the sea; But a noble knight was her ransom soon, Wi' gowd and white monie. She bided in strangers' land wi' him, "It's narrow, narrow, mak your bed, For I'm gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie, Wi' you I ne'er gat nane. "But wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my bright Bride, That I bring owre the dale?" "It's I will bake your bridal bread, And brew your bridal ale; And I will welcome your bright Bride, "But she that welcomes my bright Bride Maun gang like maiden fair; She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, "Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, And tie it on your neck; And see you look as maiden-like As the day that first we met." 2553 Fair Annie "O how can I gang maiden-like, Have I not borne six sons to thee, "I'll put cooks into my kitchen, And stewards in my hall, And I'll have bakers for my bread, And brewers for my ale; But you're to welcome my bright Bride, That I bring owre the dale." Three months and a day were gane and past, Fair Annie she gat word That her love's ship was come at last, Wi' his bright young Bride aboard. She's ta'en her young son in her arms, And she's gane up to the highest tower, "Come doun, come doun, my mother dear, I fear if langer ye stand there, She's ta'en a cake o' the best bread, And to the yett is gane. "O ye're welcome hame, my ain gude lord, "O whatna lady's that, my lord, Fair Annie served the lang tables And she gaed by the first table, But ere she reached the second table, The tears began to fa'. She took a napkin lang and white, And hung it on a pin; It was to wipe away the tears, When bells were rung and mass was sung, And a' men bound for bed, The bridegroom and the bonny Bride In ae chamber were laid. Fair Annie's ta'en a harp in her hand, To harp thir twa asleep; But ay, as she harpit and she sang, "O gin my sons were seven rats, "O gin my sons were seven hares, Rinnin' owre yon lily lea, And I mysell a good greyhound, Soon worried they a' should be!" 2555 Fair Annie Then out and spak the bonny young Bride, In bride-bed where she lay: "That's like my sister Annie," she says; "Wha is it doth sing and play? "I'll put on my gown," said the new-come Bride, "And my shoes upon my feet; I will see wha doth sae sadly sing, "What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper, That ye mak sic a mane? Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds, Or is a' your white bread gane?" "It isna because my wine is spilt, But because I've lost my true love's love, "Noo tell me wha was your father?" she says, "Noo tell me wha was your mither? And had ye ony sister?" she says, "And had ye ever a brither?" "The Earl of Wemyss was my father, "If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; And it's O my sister Annie! Your love ye sallna tyne. "Tak your husband, my sister dear; |