13 'There's bluid in my nursery,
there's bluid in my ha,
There's bluid in my fair lady's bower,
an that's warst of a'.'
14 O sweet, sweet sang the birdie,
upon the bough sae hie,
But little cared false nourice for that,
for it was her gallows-tree.
* * * * *
R
Finlay's Scottish Ballads, II, 55, "from a manuscript formerly written by an old lady."
1 When Sir Guy and his train
gaed to hunt the wild boar,
He gard bar up his castle,
behind and before.
2 And he bade his fair lady
guard weel her young son,
For wicked Balcanqual
great mischief had done.
3 So she closed a' the windows,
without and within,
But forgot the wee wicket,
and Balcanqual crap in.
* * * * *
4 Syne Balcanqual he rocked,
and fause nourice sang,
Till through a' the cradle
the baby's blood sprang.