48
Then out o his bridal bed he sprang,
An into his mither's bower he ran.
49
'O mither kind, O mither dear,
This is nae a maiden fair.
50
'The maiden I took to my bride
Has a bairn atween her sides.
51
'The maiden I took to my bower
Is dreeing the mither's trying hour.'
52
Then to the chamber his mother flew,
And to the wa the door she threw.
53
She stapt at neither bolt nor ban,
Till to that ladie's bed she wan.
54
Says, 'Ladie fair, sae meek an mild,
Wha is the father o yere child?'
55
'O mither dear,' said that ladie,
'I canna tell gif I sud die.
56
'We were sisters, we were seven,
We were the fairest under heaven.
57
'And it was a' our seven years wark
To sew our father's seven sarks.