But he lay still, and sleeped sound,
Albeit the sun began to sheen;
She looked atween her and the wa',55
And dull and drowsie were his een.
Then in and came her father dear,
Said—"Let a' your mourning be:
I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay,
And I'll come back and comfort thee."—60
"Comfort weel your seven sons,
For comforted will I never be:
I ween 'twas neither knave nor loon
Was in the bower last night wi' me."—
[20]. In Kinloch's version of this ballad we have an additional stanza here:—
——"Ye'll take me in your arms twa,
Ye'll carry me into your bed,
And ye may swear, and save your aith,
That in your bour floor I ne'er gae'd."
PART SECOND.
[The clinking bell gaed through the town],
To carry the dead corse to the clay;
And Clerk Saunders stood at may Margaret's window,
I wot, an hour before the day.
"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says,5
"Or are ye waking presentlie?
Give me my faith and troth again,
I wot, true love, I gied to thee."—
"Your faith and troth ye sall never get,
Nor our true love sall never twin,10
Until ye come within my bower,
And kiss me cheik and chin."—