She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And her een they wer sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
Whan fair Annet she drew near.
He had a rose into his hand, 95
And he gave it kisses three,
And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annets knee
Up than spak the nut-browne bride,
She spak wi' meikle spite; 90
And whair gat ye that rose-water,
That does mak yee sae white?
O I did get the rose-water,
Whair ye wull neir get nane,
For I did get that very rose-water 95
Into my mithers wame.
The bride she drew a long bodkin,
Frae out her gay head-gear,
And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word she nevir spak mair. 100
Lord Thomas he saw fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee:
But whan he saw her dear hearts blude,
A' wood-wroth[425] wexed hee.
He drew his dagger, that was sae sharp, 105
That was sae sharp and meet,
And drave into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.
Now stay for me, dear Annet, he sed,
Now stay, my dear, he cry'd; 110
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell deid by her side.
Lord Thomas was buried without kirk-wa',
Fair Annet within the quiere;
And o' the tane thair grew a birk, 115
The other a bonny briere.
And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad faine be neare;
And by this ye may ken right weil,
They ware twa luvers deare. 120