He's brought her frae her mother's bower,
Unto his strongest castle and tower.
But ay she cry'd and made great moan,
10 And ay the tear came trickling down.
"Come up, come up," said the foremost man,
"I think our bride comes slowly on."
"O lady, sits your saddle awry,
Or is your steed for you owre high?"
15 "My saddle is not set awry,
Nor carries me my steed owre high;
"But I am weary of my life,
Since I maun be Lord Bothwell's wife."
He's blawn his horn sae sharp and shrill,
20 Up start the deer on every hill;
He's blawn his horn sae lang and loud,
Up start the deer in gude green wood.
His lady mother lookit owre the castle wa',
And she saw them riding ane and a'.