Then up bespak her bouer-woman,
And she spak ae wi' spite:—30
"An there be a slain knicht in your bouer,
It's yoursel that has the wyte."
"O heal this deed on me, Meggy,
O heal this deed on me;
The silks that war shapen for me gen Pasche,
They sall be sewed for thee."35
"O I hae heal'd on my mistress
A twalmonth and a day,
And I hae heal'd on my mistress,
Mair than I can say."40
They've booted him, and they've spurred him,
As he was wont to ride:—
A huntin horn round his neck,
And a sharp sword by his side;
In the deepest place o' Clyde's water,45
It's there they've made his bed.
Sine up bespak the wylie parrot,
As he sat on the tree,—
"And hae ye kill'd him young Redin,
Wha ne'er had love but thee!"50
"Come doun, come doun, ye wylie parrot,
Come doun into my hand;
Your cage sall be o' the beaten gowd,
When now it's but the wand."
"I winna come doun, I canna come doun,55
I winna come doun to thee;
For as ye've dune to young Redin,
Ye'll do the like to me;
Ye'll thraw my head aff my hause-bane,
O there cam seekin young Redin,
Monie a lord and knicht;
And there cam seekin young Redin,
Monie a ladie bricht.