Then Lamkin he rocked,
And the fause nourice sang,
Till frae ilkae bore o' the cradle
The red blood out sprang.
Then out it spak the lady,45
As she stood on the stair,
"What ails my bairn, nourice,
That he's greeting sae sair?
"O still my bairn, nourice;
O still him wi' the pap!"50
"He winna still, lady,
For this, nor for that."
"O still my bairn, nourice;
"O still him wi' the wand!"
"He winna still, lady,55
For a' his father's land."
"O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi' the bell!"
"He winna still, lady,
Till ye come down yoursel."60
O the firsten step she steppit,
She steppit on a stane;
But the neisten step she steppit,
She met him, Lamkin.
"O mercy, mercy, Lamkin!65
Ha'e mercy upon me!
Though you've ta'en my young son's life,
Ye may let mysel be."
"O sall I kill her, nourice?
Or sall I lat her be?"70
"O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,
For she ne'er was good to me."