3
Lady Margaret sits in her bower door,
Sewing at her silken seam;
And she langd to gang to Charter woods,
To pou the roses green.
4
She hadna poud a rose, a rose,
Nor broken a branch but ane,
Till by it came him true Tam-a-line,
Says, Ladye, lat alane.
5
O why pou ye the rose, the rose?
Or why brake ye the tree?
Or why come ye to Charter woods,
Without leave askd of me?
6
'I will pou the rose, the rose,
And I will brake the tree;
Charter woods are a' my ain,
I'll ask nae leave o thee.'
7
He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her low on gude green wood,
At her he spierd nae leave.
8
When he had got his wills of her,
His wills as he had taen,
He's taen her by the middle sma,
Set her to feet again.
9
She turnd her right and round about,
To spier her true-love's name,
But naething heard she, nor naething saw,
As a' the woods grew dim.
10
Seven days she tarried there,
Saw neither sun nor meen;
At length, by a sma glimmering light,
Came thro the wood her lane.
11
When she came to her father's court,
As fine as ony queen;
But when eight months were past and gane,
Got on the gown o' green.
12
Then out it speaks an eldren knight,
As he stood at the yett:
'Our king's daughter, she gaes wi bairn,
And we'll get a' the wyte.'