16 Sanders he started, an Margret she lapt,
Intill his arms whare she lay,
And well and wellsom was the night,
A wat it was between these twa.
17 And they lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the day began to daw;
And kindly till him she did say
'It's time, trew-love, ye wear awa.'
18 They lay still, and sleeped sound,
Untill the sun began to shine;
She lookt between her and the wa,
And dull and heavy was his eeen.
19 She thought it had been a loathsome sweat,
A wat it had fallen this twa between;
But it was the blood of his fair body,
A wat his life days wair na lang.
20 'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake
What other ladys would na thoule;
When seven years is come and gone,
There's near a shoe go on my sole.
21 'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake
What other ladies would think mare;
When seven years is come an gone,
Ther's nere a comb go in my hair.
22 'O Sanders, I'le do for your sake
What other ladies would think lack;
When seven years is come an gone,
I'le wear nought but dowy black.'
23 The bells gaed clinking throw the towne,
To carry the dead corps to the clay,
An sighing says her May Margret,
'A wat I bide a doulfou day.'
24 In an come her father dear,
Stout steping on the floor;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
25 'Hold your toung, my doughter dear,
Let all your mourning a bee;
I'le carry the dead corps to the clay,
An I'le come back an comfort thee.'