"Tak up and wear your rose, Willie,
And wear't wi' mickle care,120
For the woman sall never bear a son,
That will mak my heart sae sair."
Whan night was come, and day was gane,
And a' man boun to bed,
Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride125
In their chamber were laid.
They werena weel lyen down,
And scarcely fa'n asleep,
Whan up and stands she, fair Annie,
"Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride,
Between ye and the wa';
And sae will I o' my winding sheet,
That suits me best ava.
"Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride,135
Between ye and the stock;
And sae will I o' my black black kist,
That has neither key nor lock."
Sad Willie raise, put on his claise,
Drew till him his hose and shoon,140
And he is on to Annie's bower,
By the lei light o' the moon.
The firsten bower that he came till,
There was right dowie wark;
Her mither and her three sisters145
Were makin' to Annie a sark.
The nexten bower that he came till,
There was right dowie cheir;
Her father and her seven brethren
Were makin' to Annie a bier.150
The lasten bower, that he came till,
[O heavy was his care!
The waxen lights were burning bright,]
And fair Annie streekit there.