No, I will tak my mithers counsel,
And marrie me owt o' hand;
And I will tak the nut-browne bride;
Fair Annet may leive the land.
Up then rose fair Annets father 45
Twa hours or it wer day,
And he is gane into the bower,
Wherein fair Annet lay.
Rise up, rise up, fair Annet, he says,
Put on your silken sheene; 50
Let us gae to St. Maries kirke,
And see that rich weddeen.
My maides, gae to my dressing roome,
And dress to me my hair;
Whair-eir yee laid a plait before,
See yee lay ten times mair.
My maids, gae to my dressing room,
And dress to me my smock;
The one half is o' the holland fine,
The other o' needle-work. 60
The horse fair Annet rade upon,
He amblit like the wind,
Wi' siller he was shod before,
Wi' burning gowd behind.
Four and twanty siller bells 65
Wer a' tyed till his mane,
And yae tift[424] o' the norland wind,
They tinkled ane by ane.
Four and twanty gay gude knichts
Rade by the fair Annets side, 70
And four and twanty fair ladies,
As gin she had bin a bride.
And whan she cam to Maries kirk,
She sat on Maries stean:
The cleading that fair Annet had on 75
It skinkled in their een.
And whan she cam into the kirk,
She shimmer'd like the sun;
The belt that was about her waist,
Was a' wi' pearles bedone. 80