Up then spak the nut-browne bride,
She spak wi meikle spite:
“And whair gat ye that rose-water,
That does mak yee sae white?”
“O I did get the rose-water
Whair ye wull neir get nane,
For I did get that very rose-water
Into my mither’s wame.”
The bride she drew a long bodkin
Frae out her gay head-gear,
And strake Fair Annet unto the heart,
That word spak nevir mair.
Lord Thomas he saw Fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee;
But when he saw her dear heart’s blude,
A’ wood-wroth wexed bee.
He drew his dagger that was sae sharp,
That was sae sharp and meet,
And drave it into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.
“Now stay for me, dear Annet,” he sed,
“Now stay, my dear,” he cry’d;
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell deid by her side.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa,
Fair Annet within the quiere,
And o the ane thair grew a birk,
The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad faine be neare;
And by this ye may ken right weil
They were twa luvers deare.
FAIR ANNIE
(Child, Part III., p. 69.)