And syne he kissed her on ae cheek,
And syne upon the ither;
And he ca’d her his sister dear,
And she ca’d him her brither.
“Light doun, light doun now, ladye mine,
Light doun upon the shore;
Nae English king has trodden here
This thousand years and more.”
“And gin I lighted on your land,
As light fu’ weel I may,
O am I free to feast wi’ you,
And free to come and gae?”
And he has sworn by the Haly Rood,
And the black stane o’ Dumblane,
That she is free to come and gae
Till twenty days are gane.
“I’ve lippened to a Frenchman’s aith,”
Said gude Lord Aberdeen;
“But I’ll never lippen to it again,
Sae lang’s the grass is green.
“Yet gae your ways, my sovereign liege,
Sin’ better mayna be;
The wee bit bairns are safe at hame,
By the blessing o’ Marie!”
Then doun she lighted frae the ship,
She lighted safe and sound;
And glad was our good Prince Albert
To step upon the ground.
“Is that your Queen, my Lord,” she said,
“That auld and buirdly dame?
I see the crown upon her head;
But I dinna ken her name.”
And she has kissed the Frenchman’s Queen,
And eke her daughters three,
And gien her hand to the young Princess,
That louted upon the knee.
And she has gane to the proud castel,
That’s biggit beside the sea:
But aye, when she thought o’ the bairns at hame,
The tear was in her ee.