Where the grass grows fair and green.
‘O no, O no, my brother dear,
O you must not say so;
But say that I’m gane to a foreign land, 45
Where nae man does me know.
When he sat in his father’s chair
He grew baith pale and wan.
‘O what blude’s that upon your brow?
O dear son, tell to me.’ 50
‘It is the blude o’ my gude gray steed,