43 'I'll kindle a fire wi a flint-stane,
Bring wine in a green horn;
I'll be midwife at your right side,
Till your young babe be born.'
44 'That was neer my mither's custom,
Forbid that it be mine!
A knight stan by a lady bright
Whan she drees a' her pine.
45 'There is a knight in gude greenwood,
If that he kent o me,
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Sae soon's he woud come me tee.'
46 'If there be a knight in gude greenwood
Ye like better than me,
If ance he come your bower within,
Ane o us twa shall dee.'
47 She set a horn to her mouth,
And she blew loud and shrill;
Thro stock and stane and the hawthorn
Brave Roger came her till.
48 'Wha's here sae bauld,' the youth replied,
'Thus to encroach on me?'
'O here I am,' the knight replied,
'Hae as much right as thee.'
49 Then they fought up the gude greenwood,
Sae did they down the plain;
They niddart ither wi lang braid-swords,
Till they were bleedy men.
50 Then out it spak the sick woman,
Sat under the greenwood tree;
O had your han, young man, she said,
She's a woman as well as me.
51 Then out it speaks anither youth,
Amang the companie;
Gin I had kent what I ken now,
'T is for her I woud dee.
52 'O wae mat worth you, Rose the Red,
An ill death mat ye dee!
Altho ye tauld upo yoursell,
Ye might hae heald on me.'