"I've been porter at your gates,
It's now for thirty years and three;
But the lovely lady that stands thereat,
The like o' her did I never see.
"For on every finger she has a ring,
And on her mid-finger she has three,
And meikle gold aboon her brow.
Sae fair a may did I never see."
It's out then spak the bride's mother,
And an angry woman, I wot, was she:
"Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie."
"O hold your tongue, thou bride's mother,
Of all your folly let me be;
She's ten times fairer nor the bride,
And all that's in your companie.
"And this golden ring that's broken in twa,
This half o' a golden ring sends she:
'Ye'll carry that to Lord Beichan,' she says,
'And bid him come an' speak wi' me.'
"She begs one sheave of your white bread,
But and a cup of your red wine,
And to remember the lady's love
That last relieved you out of pine."
"O well-a-day!" said Beichan then,
"That I so soon have married me!
For it can be none but Susie Pye,
That for my love has sailed the sea."
And quickly hied he down the stair;
Of fifteen steps he made but three;
He's ta'en his bonny love in his arms
And kist and kist her tenderlie.
"O hae ye ta'en anither bride?
And hae ye clean forgotten me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her
That gave you life and libertie?"
She lookit o'er her left shoulder,
To hide the tears stood in her ee:
"Now fare thee well, young Beichan," she says,
"I'll try to think no more on thee."