When she cam' to the haly kirk,
She at the door did stan';
She was sae sunken doun wi' shame,
She couldna come farther ben.
Then out it spak' the haly priest,
Wi' a kindly word spak' he:
"Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower,
And bring your babes to me."
* * * * *
LAMKIN.
It's Lamkin was a mason good
As ever built wi' stane;
He built Lord Wearie's castle,
But payment gat he nane.
"O pay me, Lord Wearie,
Come, pay me my fee:"
"I canna pay you, Lamkin,
For I maun gang o'er the sea."
"O pay me now, Lord Wearie,
Come, pay me out o' hand:"
"I canna pay you, Lamkin,
Unless I sell my land."
"O gin ye winna pay me,
I here sall mak' a vow,
Before that ye come hame again,
Ye sall hae cause to rue."
Lord Wearie got a bonny ship,
To sail the saut sea faem;
Bade his lady weel the castle keep,
Ay till he should come hame.
But the nourice was a fause limmer
As e'er hung on a tree;
She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,
Whan her lord was o'er the sea.