She leand her back against an oak,
And gae a loud Ohone!
Then out it spake him Brown Robin,
“But that’s a woman’s moan!”
“Oh, ken ye by my red rose lip?
Or by my yallow hair;
Or ken ye by my milk-white breast?
For ye never saw it bare?”
“I ken no by your red rose lip,
Nor by your yallow hair;
Nor ken I by your milk-white breast,
For I never saw it bare;
But, come to your bowr whaever sae likes,
Will find a ladye there.”
“Oh, gin ye come to my bowr within,
Thro fraud, deceit, or guile,
Wi this same bran that’s in my han
I swear I will thee kill.”
“But I will come thy bowr within,
An spear nae leave,” quoth he;
“An this same bran that’s i my ban,
I sall ware back on the.”
About the tenth hour of the night,
The ladie’s bowr door was broken,
An eer the first hour of the day
The bonny knave bairn was gotten.
When days were gane and months were run,
The ladye took travailing,
And sair she cry’d for a bow’r-woman,
For to wait her upon.
Then out it spake him, Brown Robin:
“Now what needs a’ this din?
For what coud any woman do
But I coud do the same?”
“Twas never my mither’s fashion,” she says,
“Nor sall it ever be mine,
That belted knights shoud eer remain
Where ladies dreed their pine.
“But ye take up that bugle-horn,
An blaw a blast for me;
I ha a brother i the kingis court
Will come me quickly ti.”