He neither kist her whan he cam,
Nor clappit her when he gaed;
And in and at her bower window,75
The moon shone like the gleed.
"O, ragged is your hose, Glenkindie,
And riven is your sheen,
And reavel'd is your yellow hair
That I saw late yestreen."80
"The stockings they are Gib my man's,
They came first to my hand;
And this is Gib my man's shoon;
At my bed feet they stand.
I've reavell'd a' my yellow hair85
Coming against the wind."
He's taen the harp intill his hand,
He harpit and he sang,
Until he cam to his master,
As fast as he could gang.90
"Won up, won up, my good master;
I fear ye sleep o'er lang;
There's nae a cock in a' the land
But has wappit his wings and crawn."
Glenkindie's tane his harp in hand,95
He harpit and he sang,
And he has reach'd the lady's bower,
Afore that e'er he blan.
When he cam to the lady's bower,
He chappit at the chin;100
"O, wha is that at my bower door,
That opens na and comes in?"
"It's I, Glenkindie, your ain true love,
And in I canna win."
* * * * * * *
"Forbid it, forbid it," says that lady,105
"That ever sic shame betide;
That I should first be a wild loon's lass,
And than a young knight's bride."