Harris MS., fol. 5b.
1 The king luikit owre his castle wa,
To his nobles ane an a';
Says, Whare it is him Sir Colin,
I dinna see him amang you a'?
2 Up it spak an eldern knicht,
Aye an even up spak he:
'Sir Colin's sick for your dochter Janet,
He's very sick, an like to dee.'
3 'Win up, win up, my dochter Janet,
I wat ye are a match most fine;
Tak the baken bread an wine sae ried,
An to Sir Colin ye maun gieng.'
4 Up she rase, that fair Janet,
An I wat weel she was na sweer,
An up they rase, her merrie maries,
An they said a' they wad gae wi her.
5 'No, no,' said fair Janet,
'No, no such thing can be;
For a thrang to gae to a sick man's bour,
I think it wald be great folie.
6 'How is my knicht, all last nicht?'
'Very sick an like to dee;
But if I had a kiss o your sweet lips,
I wald lie nae langer here.'
7 She leant her doon on his bed-side,
I wat she gae him kisses three;
But wi sighen said that fair Janet,
'As for your bride, I daurna be.
8 'Unless you watch the Orlange hill,
An at that hill there grows a thorn;
There neer cam a liven man frae it,
Sin the first nicht that I was born.'
9 'Oh I will watch the Orlange hill,
Though I waur thinkin to be slain;
But I will gie you some love tokens,
In case we never meet again.'