THE BONNY HIND
O may she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon gardens green,
And there she spied a gallant squire
As squire had ever been.
And may she comes, and may she goes,
Down by yon hollin tree,
And there she spied a brisk young squire,
And a brisk young squire was he.
"Give me your green mantle, fair maid,
Give me your maidenhead;
Gif ye winna gie me your green mantle,
Give me your maidenhead!
He has ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
And softly laid her down,
And when he's lifted her up again
Given her a silver kaim.
(even, fine.)
"Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir,
Perhaps there may be nane;
But if you be a courtier,
You'll tell to me your name."
"I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But new come frae the sea;
I am nae courtier, fair maid,
But when I courteth thee.
"They call me Jack when I'm abroad,
Sometimes they call me John;
But when I'm in my father's bower
Jock Randal is my name."
"Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad;
Sae loud's I hear ye lee!
For I'm Lord Randal's yae daughter,
He has nae mair nor me."
"Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may,
Sae loud's I hear ye lee!
For I'm Lord Randal's yae yae son,
Just now come o'er the sea."
She's putten her hand down by her spare,
And out she's ta en a knife,
And she has put'nt in her heart's bluid,
And ta'en away her life.
(spare, pocket.)
And hes ta en up his bonny sister,
With the big tear in his een,
And he has buried his bonny sister
Among the hollins green.
And syne hes hied him o'er the dale,
His father dear to see:
"Sing O and O for my bonny hind,
Beneath yon hollin tree!"
"What needs you care for your bonny hind?
For it you needna care;
There's aught score hinds in yonder park,
And five score hinds to spare.
"Four score of them are siller-shod,
Of those ye may get three;"
"But O and O for my bonny hind,
Beneath yon hollin tree!"
"What needs you care for your bonny hind?
For it you needna care;
Take you the best, give me the worst,
Since plenty is to spare."
"I carena for your hinds, my Lord,
I carena for your fee;
But O and O for my bonny hind,
Beneath the hollin tree!"
(aught, eight.)
"O were ye at your sisters bower,
Your sister fair to see,
Ye'll think na mair o' your bonny hind,
Beneath the hollin tree."