3
'What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What got you to dinner, Lairde Rowlande, my son?'
'I got eels boild in brue; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'
4
'What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?'
'He died in the muirlands; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'
5
'What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?
What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?'
'They swelled and they died; mither, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.'
F.
Johnson's Museum, No 327, p. 337. Communicated by Burns.
1
'O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?
O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?'
'I hae been wi my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon,
For I'm weary wi the hunting, and fain wad lie down.'
2
'What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?'
'I hae got deadly poison; mother, make my bed soon,
For life is a burden that soon I'll lay down.'
* * * * *
G.
Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 319. Originally from a clergyman's daughter, in Suffolk.