"There is a fashion in this land,
And even come to this country,
That every lady should meet her lord,
When he is newly come frae sea:
5 "Some wi' hawks, and some wi' hounds,
And other some wi' gay monie;
But I will gae myself alone,
And set his young son on his knee."
She's ta'en her young son in her arms,
10 And nimbly walk'd by yon sea strand;
And there she spy'd her father's ship,
As she was sailing to dry land.
"Where hae ye put my ain gude lord,
This day he stays sae far frae me?"
15 "If ye be wanting your ain gude lord,
A sight o' him ye'll never see."
"Was he brunt, or was he shot?
Or was he drowned in the sea?
Or what's become o' my ain gude lord,
20 That he will ne'er appear to me?"
"He wasna brunt, nor was he shot,
Nor was he drowned in the sea;
He was slain in Dumfermling,
A fatal day to you and me."
25 "Come in, come in, my merry young men,
Come in and drink the wine wi' me;
And a' the better ye shall fare,
For this gude news ye tell to me."
She's brought them down to yon cellar,
30 She brought them fifty steps and three;
She birled wi' them the beer and wine,
Till they were as drunk as drunk could be.
Then she has lock'd her cellar door,
For there were fifty steps and three;
35 "Lie there wi' my sad malison,
For this bad news ye've tauld to me."
She's ta'en the keys intill her hand,
And threw them deep, deep in the sea;
"Lie there wi' my sad malison,
40 Till my gude lord return to me."