A stall-copy lent me by Mrs Alexander Forbes, Liberton, Edinburgh.
1
'Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas,' she said,
'And draw to your arms so bright;
Let it never be said a daughter of yours
Shall go with a lord or a knight.
2
'Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons,
And draw to your armour so bright;
Let it never be said a sister of yours
Shall go with a lord or a knight.'
3
He looked over his left shoulder,
To see what he could see,
And there he spy'd her seven brethren bold,
And her father that lov'd her tenderly.
4
'Light down, light down, Lady Margret,' he said,
'And hold my steed in thy hand,
That I may go fight with your seven brethren bold,
And your father who's just at hand.'
5
O there she stood, and bitter she stood,
And never did shed a tear,
Till once she saw her seven brethren slain,
And her father she lovd so dear.
6
'Hold, hold your hand, William,' she said,
'For thy strokes are wondrous sore;
For sweethearts I may get many a one,
But a father I neer will get more.'
7
She took out a handkerchief of holland so fine
And wip'd her father's bloody wound,
Which ran more clear than the red wine,
And forked on the cold ground.
8
'O chuse you, chuse you, Margret,' he said,
'Whether you will go or bide!'
'I must go with you, Lord William,' she said,
'Since you've left me no other guide.'
9
He lifted her on a milk-white steed,
And himself on a dapple grey,
With a blue gilded horn hanging by his side,
And they slowly both rode away.