6 Her father he put on the pot,
Her sister put on the pan,
And her brother he put on a bauld, bauld fire,
To burn Lady Marjorie in;
And her mother she sat in a golden chair,
To see her daughter burn.
7 'But where will I get a pretty little boy,
That will win hose and shoon,
That will go quickly to Strawberry Castle
And bid my lord come doun?'
8 'O here am I a pretty boy,
That'll win hose and shoon,
That will rin quickly to Strawberry Castle,
And bid thy lord come doun.'
9 O when he came to broken brigs,
He bent his bow and swam,
And when he came to good dry land,
He let down his foot and ran.
10 When he came to Strawberry Castle,
He tirled at the pin;
None was so ready as the gay lord himsell
To open and let him in.
11 'O is there any of my towers burnt?
Or any of my castles broken?
Or is Lady Marjorie brought to bed,
Of a daughter or a son?'
12 'O there is nane of thy towers burnt,
Nor nane of thy castles broken,
But Lady Marjorie is condemned to die,
To be burnt in a fire of oaken.'
13 'O gar saddle to me the black,' he said,
'Gar saddle to me the brown;
Gar saddle to me the swiftest steed
That eer carried a man from town.'
14 He left the black into the slap,
The brown into the brae,
But fair fa that bonny apple-gray
That carried this gay lord away!
15 He took a little horn out of his pocket,
And he blew't both loud and shrill,
And the little life that was in her,
She hearkend to it full weel.