“Now well is me, my gay gos-hawk,
That ye can speak and flee!
Come show me any love-tokens
That ye have brought to me.”
“She sends ye her ring frae her finger white,
The garland frae her hair;
She sends ye the heart within her breast;
And what would ye have mair?
And at the fourth kirk o’ fair Scotland,
She bids ye wait for her there.”
“Come hither, all my merry young men!
And drink the good red wine;
For we must on towards fair England
To free my love frae pine.”
The funeral came into fair Scotland,
And they gart the bells be rung;
And when it came to the second kirk,
They gart the mass be sung.
And when it came to the third kirk,
They dealt gold for her sake;
And when it came to the fourth kirk,
Her love was waiting thereat.
At the fourth kirk in fair Scotland
Stood spearmen in a row;
And up and started her ain true love,
The chieftain over them a’.
“Set down, set down the bier,” he says,
“Till I look upon the dead;
The last time that I saw her face,
Its color was warm and red.”
He stripped the sheet from off her face
A little below the chin;
The lady then she opened her eyes,
And lookèd full on him.
“O give me a shive o’ your bread, love,
O give me a cup o’ your wine!
Long have I fasted for your sake,
And now I fain would dine.
“Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brothers,
Gae hame and blow the horn!
And ye may say that ye sought my skaith,
And that I hae gi’en ye the scorn.