2 'Sure never a maid that eer drew breath
Had harder fate than me;
I'd never a lad but one on earth,
They forc'd him to the sea.
3 'The ale shall neer be brewin o malt,
Neither by sea nor land,
That ever mair shall cross my hause,
Till my love comes to hand.
4 'A handsome lad, wi shoulders broad,
Gold yellow was his hair;
None of our Scottish youths on earth
That with him could compare.'
5 She thought her love was gone to sea,
And landed in Bahome;
But he was in a quiet chamber,
Hearing his lady's moan.
6 'Why make ye all this moan, lady?
Why make ye all this moan?
For I'm deep sworn on a book,
I must go to Bahome.
7 'Traitors false for to subdue
Oer seas I'll make me boun,
That have trepand our kind Scotchmen,
Like dogs to ding them down.'
8 'Weell, take this ring, this royal thing,
Whose virtue is unknown;
As lang's this ring's your body on,
Your blood shall neer be drawn.
9 'But if this ring shall fade or stain,
Or change to other hue,
Come never mair to fair Scotland,
If ye're a lover true.'
10 Then this couple they did part,
With a sad heavy moan;
The wind was fair, the ship was rare,
They landed in Bahome.
11 But in that place they had not been
A month but barely one,
Till he lookd on his gay gold ring,
And riven was the stone.