16
'But we'll shoot the laverock in the lift,
The buntlin on the tree,
And ye'll tak them hame to your mother,
And see if she'll comforted be.'
* * * * *
17
'I wad ask ye something, mother,
An ye wadna angry be;'
'Ask on, ask on, my eldest son,
Ask onie thing at me.'
18
'Your cheeks they are aft times weet,
Alas! they're seldom dry;'
'Na wonder, na wonder, my eldest son,
Tho I should brast and die.
19
'For I was ance an earl's dochter,
Of noble birth and fame,
And now I am the wife of Hynde Etin,
Wha neer got christendame.'
* * * * *
C.
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 67, communicated by Mr James Nicol, of Strichen; Motherwell's Minstrelsy, p. 287; Motherwell's MS., p. 450.
1
'O well like I to ride in a mist,
And shoot in a northern win,
And far better a lady to steal,
That's come of a noble kin.'
2
Four an twenty fair ladies
Put on this lady's sheen,
And as mony young gentlemen
Did lead her ower the green.