My lover’s blood is on thy spear;
How canst thou, barbarous man, then woo me?
‘My happy sisters may be proud;
With cruel and ungentle scoffing 90
May bid me seek on Yarrow’s braes
My lover nailèd in his coffin.
‘My brother Douglas may upbraid,
And strive with threatening words to move me;
My lover’s blude is on thy spear, 95
How canst thou ever bid me love thee?