Bade him lie still and sleep;
She's thrown him in Our Lady's draw well,
Was fifty fathom deep.
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And a' the bairns came hame,
When every lady gat hame her son,
The Lady Maisry gat nane.
She's ta'en her mantle her about,
Her coffer by the hand;
And she's gane out to seek her son,