Motherwell's MS., p. 492.
1
The Elfin Knight sits on yon hill,
Ba ba lilly ba
Blowing his horn loud and shill.
And the wind has blawn my plaid awa
2
'I love to hear that horn blaw;
I wish him [here] owns it and a'.'
3
That word it was no sooner spoken,
Than Elfin Knight in her arms was gotten.
4
'You must mak to me a sark,
Without threed, sheers or needle wark.'
F
Kinloch MSS, I, 75. From Mary Barr.
1
'Did ye ever travel twist Berwick and Lyne?
Sober and grave grows merry in time
There ye'll meet wi a handsome young dame,
Ance she was a true love o mine.
2
'Tell her to sew me a holland sark,
And sew it all without needle-wark:
And syne we'll be true lovers again.
3
'Tell her to wash it at yon spring-well,
Where neer wind blew, nor yet rain fell.