9 Her good lord wrang his milk-white hands,
Till the gowd rings flaw in three:
'Let ha's and bowers and a' gae waste,
My bonny love's taen frae me!'
10 'O hold your tongue, Lord Livingston,
Let a' your mourning be;
For I bare the bird between my sides,
Yet I maun thole her to die.'
11 Then out it spake her sister dear,
As she sat at her head:
'That man is not in Christendoom
Shall gar me die sicken dead.'
12 'O hold your tongue, my ae daughter,
Let a' your folly be,
For ye shall be married ere this day week
Tho the same death you should die.'
D
Dr John Hill Burton's MS., No 2.
1 'Here it is was sisters seven,
And five is died with child;
Was non but you and I, Hellen,
And we'se be maidens mild.'
2 They hadna been maidens o bonny Snawdon
A twalvemonth and a day,
When lairds and lords a courting came,
Seeking Mary away.
3 The bonny laird of Livingstone,
He liket Mary best;
He gae her a ring, a royal ring,
And he wedded her at last.
4 She hed na been lady o Livingstone
A twalvemonth and a day,
When she did go as big wi bairn
As iver a woman could be.