"O what hae you to keep me wi',
30 If I should with you go?
If I'd forsake my dear husband,
My little young son also?"
"See ye not yon seven pretty ships,
The eighth brought me to land;
35 With merchandize and mariners,
And wealth in every hand?"
She turn'd her round upon the shore,
Her love's ships to behold;
Their topmasts and their mainyards
40 Were cover'd o'er wi' gold.
Then she's gane to her little young son,
And kiss'd him cheek and chin;
Sae has she to her sleeping husband,
And dune the same to him.
45 "O sleep ye, wake ye, my husband,
I wish ye wake in time;
I woudna for ten thousand pounds,
This night ye knew my mind."
She's drawn the slippers on her feet,
50 Were cover'd o'er wi' gold;
Well lined within wi' velvet fine,
To had her frae the cold.
She hadna sailed upon the sea
A league but barely three,
55 Till she minded on her dear husband,
Her little young son tee.
"O gin I were at land again,
At land where I wou'd be,
The woman ne'er shou'd bear the son,
60 Shou'd gar me sail the sea."
"O hold your tongue, my sprightly flower,
Let a' your mourning be;
I'll show you how the lilies grow
On the banks o' Italy."