Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 327. Obtained from recitation.
"Learn to mak your bed, Annie,
And learn to lie your lane;
For I maun owre the salt seas gang,
A brisk bride to bring hame.
"Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,5
And tye it in your neck;
And see you look as maiden-like
As the day that we first met."
"O how can I look maiden-like,
When maiden I'll ne'er be;10
When seven brave sons I've born to thee,
And the eighth is in my bodie?
"The eldest of your sons, my lord,
Wi' red gold shines his weed;
The second of your sons, my lord,15
Rides on a milk-white steed.
"And the third of your sons, my lord,
He draws your beer and wine;
And the fourth of your sons, my lord,
Can serve you when you dine.20
"And the fift of your sons, my lord,
He can both read and write;
And the sixth of your sons, my lord,
Can do it most perfyte.
"And the sevent of your sons, my lord,25
Sits on the nurse's knee:
And how can I look maiden-like,
When a maid I'll never be?
"But wha will bake your wedding bread,
And brew your bridal ale?30
Or wha will welcome your brisk bride
That you bring owre the dale?"