“Yet gae ye to your mother again,
That vile rank witch, of vilest kind
And say, your ladye has a steed,
The like of him’s no in the land of Leed.
“For he is silver shod before,
And he is gowden shod behind;
At every tuft of that horse mane
There’s a golden chess, and a bell to ring.
This gudely gift shall be her ain,
And let me be lighter of my bairn.”
“Of her young bairn she’s ne’er be lighter,
Nor in her bow’r to shine the brighter;
But she shall die, and turn to clay,
And ye shall wed another may.”
“Another may I’ll never wed,
Another may I’ll never bring hame.”
But, sighing, said that weary wight—
“I wish my life were at an end!”
“Yet gae ye to your mother again,
That vile rank witch, of rankest kind!
And say, your ladye has a girdle,
It’s all red gowd to the middle;
“And aye, at ilka siller hem,
Hang fifty siller bells and ten;
This gudely gift shall be her ain,
And let me be lighter of my bairn.”
“Of her young bairn she’s ne’er be lighter,
Nor in your bow’r to shine the brighter;
For she shall die, and turn to clay,
And thou shall wed another may.”
“Another may I’ll never wed,
Another may I’ll never bring hame.”
But, sighing, said that weary wight—
“I wish my days were at an end!”
Then out and spak the Billy Blind,
He spak aye in good time [his mind]:—
“Yet gae ye to the market place,
And there do buy a loaf of wace;
Do shape it bairn and bairnly like,
And in it two glassen een you’ll put.
“Oh, wha has loosed the nine witch-knots
That were amang that ladye’s locks?
And wha’s ta’en out the kames of care,
That were amang that ladye’s hair?