33 'My mother shall mak my tocher up,
When I tell her how you thrive;
For we never knew where you was gone,
Or if you was alive.'
D
Herd, The Ancient and Modern Scots Songs, 1769, p. 307.
1 'Wha will bake my bridal bread,
And brew my bridal ale?
And wha will welcome my brisk bride,
That I bring oer the dale?'
2 'I will bake your bridal bread,
And brew your bridal ale,
And I will welcome your brisk bride,
That you bring oer the dale.'
3 'But she that welcomes my brisk bride
Maun gang like maiden fair;
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp,
And braid her yellow hair.'
4 'But how can I gang maiden-like,
When maiden I am nane?
Have I not born seven sons to thee,
And am with child agen?'
5 She's taen her young son in her arms,
Another in her hand,
And she's up to the highest tower,
To see him come to land.