“Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,” he says
“Put on your silken sheene;
Let us gae to St. Marie’s Kirke,
And see that rich weddeen.”
“My maides, gae to my dressing-roome,
And dress to me my hair;
Whaireir yee laid a plait before,
See yee lay ten times mair.
“My maids, gae to my dressing-room,
And dress to me my smock;
The one half is o the holland fine,
The other o needle-work.”
The horse Fair Annet rade upon,
He amblit like the wind;
Wi siller he was shod before,
Wi burning gowd behind.
Four and twanty siller bells
Wer a’ tyed till his mane,
And yae tift o the norland wind,
They tinkled ane by ane.
Four and twanty gay gude knichts
Rade by Fair Annet’s side,
And four and twanty fair ladies,
As gin she had bin a bride.
And whan she cam to Marie’s Kirk,
She sat on Marie’s stean:
The cleading that Fair Annet had on
It skinkled in their een.
And whan she cam into the kirk,
She shimmerd like the sun;
The belt that was about her waist
Was a’ wi pearles bedone.
She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they wer sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
When Fair Annet drew near.
He had a rose into his hand,
He gae it kisses three,
And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on Fair Annet’s knee.