10 Lady Ouncebell was buried in the high chancel,
Lord Lovill in the choir;
Lady Ouncebell's breast sprung out a sweet rose,
Lord Lovill's a bunch of sweet brier.
11 They grew till they grew to the top of the church,
And then they could grow no higher;
They grew till they grew to a true-lover's not,
And then they tyed both together.
12 An old wowman coming by that way,
And a blessing she did crave,
To cut off a bunch of that true-lover's not,
And buried them both in one grave.
B
Kinloch MSS, I, 45, from the recitation of Mary Barr, of Lesmahago, "aged upwards of 70," May, 1827.
1 Lord Lavel he stands at his stable-door,
Kaiming his milk-white steed;
And by and cam Fair Nancybelle,
And wished Lord Lavel good speed.
2 'O whare are ye going, Lord Lavel?' she said,
'I pray ye tell to me:'
'O I am going to merry England,
To win your love aff me.'
3 'And when will ye return again?' she said,
'Lord Lavel, pray tell to me:'
'Whan seven lang years are past and gane,
Fair Nancybelle, I'll return to thee.'
4 ''T is too lang, Lord Lavel,' she said,
''T is too lang for me;
'T is too long, Lord Lavel,' she said,
'A true lover for to see.'
* * * * *