11 'Here is the rings frae my fingers,
The garlonds frae my hair,
The broches fray my bosom braid;
Fray me she'll nere get mare.
12 'Here it is my weeding-goun,
It is a' goude but the hem;
Gi it to my sister Allen,
For she is left now bird her lane.
13 'When you come whare brigs is broken,
Ye'l bent your bow and swim;
An when ye come whare green grass grows,
Ye'l slack your shoon and run.
14 'But when you come to yon castle,
Bide neither to chap nor ca,
But you'l set your bent bow to your breast,
And lightly loup the wa,
And gin the porter be half-gate,
Ye'll be ben throw the ha.'
15 O when he came whare brigs was broken,
He bent his bow and swam;
An when he came where green grass grows,
He slackd his shoon an ran.
16 And when he came to yon castel,
He stayed neither to chap no ca'l,
But bent his bow unto his breast,
And lightly lap the wa'l;
And gin the porter was hafe-gate,
He was ben throw the ha'l.
17 'O peace be to you, ladys a'l!
As ye sit at your dine
Ye ha little word of Lady Mazerë,
For she drees mickel pine.
18 'Here is the rings frae her fingers,
The garlands frae her hair,
The broches frae her bosome brade;
Fray her ye'l nere get mare.
19 'Here it is her weeding-goun,
It is a' goude but the hem;
Ye'll ge it to her sister Allen,
For she is left bird her lane.'
20 She ca'd the table wi her foot,
And coped it wi her tae,
Till siller cups an siller cans
Unto the floor did gae.