Johnson's Museum, I, 5, No 5, 1787.
1 'Oh open the door, Lord Gregory,
Oh open, and let me in;
The rain rains on my scarlet robes,
The dew drops oer my chin.'
2 'If you are the lass that I lovd once,
As I true you are not she,
Come give me some of the tokens
That past between you and me.'
3 'Ah wae be to you, Gregory,
An ill death may you die!
You will not be the death of one,
But you'll be the death of three.
4 'Oh don't you mind, Lord Gregory,
'Twas down at yon burn-side
We changd the ring of our fingers,
And I put mine on thine?'
J
Motherwell's Note-Book, p. 12.
1 'O wha will shoe my pretty little foot?
And wha will glove my hand?
And who will lace my middle jimp
Wi this lang London whang?
2 'And wha will comb my yellow, yellow hair,
Wi this fine rispen kame?
And wha will be my bairn's father,
Till Lord Gregory come hame?'