He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
Among the leaves sae green;
And what they did, I cannot tell—
40 The green leaves were between.
He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
Among the roses red;
And what they did, I cannot say—
She ne'er return'd a maid.
45 When she cam to her father's ha',
She looked pale and wan;
They thought she'd dreed some sair sickness,
Or been with some leman.
She didna comb her yellow hair,
50 Nor make meikle o'er her head;
And ilka thing that lady took,
Was like to be her deid.
It's four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the ba';
55 Janet, the wightest of them anes,
Was faintest o' them a'.
Four and twenty ladies fair
Were playing at the chess;
And out there came the fair Janet,
60 As green as any grass.
Out and spak an auld grey-headed knight,
Lay o'er the castle wa',—
"And ever, alas! for thee, Janet,
But we'll be blamed a'!"—
65 "Now haud your tongue, ye auld grey knight!
And an ill deid may ye die;
Father my bairn on whom I will,
I'll father nane on thee."—
Out then spak her father dear,
70 And he spak meik and mild—
"And ever, alas! my sweet Janet,
I fear ye gae with child."—
"And if I be with child, father,
Mysell maun bear the blame;
75 There's ne'er a knight about your ha'
Shall hae the bairnie's name.