It neither grew in syke nor ditch,
Nor yet in ony sheugh;
But at the gates o Paradise
That birk grew fair eneugh.
* * * * *
“Blow up the fire, my maidens!
Bring water from the well;
For a’ my house shall feast this night,
Since my three sons are well.”
And she has made to them a bed,
She’s made it large and wide;
And she’s taen her mantle her about,
Sat down at the bedside.
* * * * *
Up then crew the red, red cock,
And up and crew the gray;
The eldest to the youngest said,
“’Tis time we were away.”
The cock he hadna crawd but once,
And clapp’d his wings at a’,
Whan the youngest to the eldest said,
“Brother, we must awa.
“The cock doth craw, the day doth daw,
The channerin worm doth chide;
Gin we be mist out o our place,
A sair pain we maun bide.
“Fare ye weel, my mother dear!
Fareweel to barn and byre!
And fare ye weel, the bonny lass
That kindles my mother’s fire!”