5 There were twal' and twal' wi' baken bread,
And twal' and twal' wi' gowd sae reid,
And twal' and twal' wi' bouted flour,
And twal' and twal' wi' the paramour.
Sweet Willy was a widow's son,
10 And at her stirrup he did run;
And she was clad in the finest pall,
But aye she let the tears down fall.
"O is your saddle set awrye?
Or rides your steed for you ower high?
15 Or are you mourning, in your tide,
That you suld be Cospatrick's bride?"
"I am not mourning, at this tide,
That I suld be Cospatrick's bride;
But I am sorrowing in my mood,
29 That I suld leave my mother good.
"But, gentle boy, come tell to me,
What is the custom of thy countrie?"—
"The custom thereof, my dame," he says,
"Will ill a gentle laydye please.
25 "Seven king's daughters has our lord wedded,
And seven king's daughters has our lord bedded;
But he's cutted their breasts frae their breast-bane,
And sent them mourning hame again.
"Yet, gin you're sure that you're a maid,
30 Ye may gae safely to his bed;
But gif o' that ye be na sure,
Then hire some damsell o' your bour."—
The ladye's call'd her bour maiden,
That waiting was into her train;
35 "Five thousand merks I'll gie to thee,
To sleep this night with my lord for me."—