8
'Of her young bairn she'll neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.
9
'But she shall die and turn to clay,
And you shall wed another may.'
10
'Another may I'll never wed,
Another may I'll neer bring home.'
11
But sighing says that weary wight,
'I wish my life were at an end.'
12
'Ye doe [ye] unto your mother again,
That vile rank witch of vilest kind.
13
'And say your ladie has a steed,
The like o'm's no in the lands of Leed.
14
'For he s golden shod before,
And he s golden shod behind.
15
'And at ilka tet of that horse's main,
There's a golden chess and a bell ringing.
16
'This goodlie gift shall be your ain,
And let me be lighter of my young bairn.'
17
'O her young bairn she'll neer be lighter,
Nor in her bower to shine the brighter.