As we cam' on, through Edinbreuch toun, My gude father, he welcomed me, He caused his minstrels loud to sound, It was nae music at a' to me; Nae mirth, nor music sounds in my ear, Sin' my ain Lord's forsaken me.
"Now haud y'r tongue, my daughter dear, An' o' your weepin' let me be; A bill o' divorce I'll gar write for him, An' I'll get as gude a Lord to thee."
"Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear, An' o' your talking let me be; I wadna gi'e a look o' my gude Lord's face For a' the Lords in the north countrie.
"The lintie is a bonnie bird, An' aften flies far frae its nest, Sae a' the warld may plainly see He's far awa' that I lo'e best."
As she was sitting at her bower window, Lookin' afar ower hill and glen, Wha did she see but fourscore men That came to tak' her back again.
Out bespak' the foremost man, (An' whaten a weel spoken man was he!) "If the Lady o' Douglas be within Ye'll bid her come doun and speak to me."
Then out bespak' her father dear, I wat an angry man was he, "Ye may gang back the gate ye cam', For my daughter's face ye'se never see."
"Now hand your tongue, my father dear, An' o' your folly let me be, For I'll gae back to my gude Lord, Sin' his love has come back to me."
She laughed like ony new-made bride, When she bad farewell to her father's towers; But the tear, I wat, stude in her e'e, When she cam' in sicht o' her ain Lord's bowers.
As she rade by the Orange Gate, Whaten a blyth sight did she see, Her gude Lord comin' her to meet, An' in his hand, her bairnies three.