She's ta'en her mantle her about,
Her coffer[173] by the hand,
And she's gane out to seek her son,
And wanderd o'er the land.
She's doen her to the Jew's castell,
Where a' were fast asleep:
"Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,
I pray you to me speak."
She's doen her to the Jew's garden,
Thought he had been gathering fruit: