She's howket a grave by the light o' the moon,
Fine flowers in the valley,
And there she's buried her sweet babe in,15
And the green leaves they grow rarely.
As she was going to the church,
Fine flowers in the valley,
She saw a sweet babe in the porch,
And the green leaves they grow rarely.20
"O sweet babe, and thou were mine,
Fine flowers in the valley,
I wad cleed thee in the silk so fine,"
And the green leaves they grow rarely.
"O mother dear, when I was thine,25
Fine flowers in the valley,
Ye did na prove to me sae kind,"
And the green leaves they grow rarely.
THE CRUEL MOTHER.
From Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 161.
She leaned her back unto a thorn,
Three, three, and three by three;
And there she has her two babes born,
Three, three, and thirty-three.