IX
She’s ta’en her young son in her arms,
Anither in her hand;
And she’s gane up to the highest tower,
Looks over sea and land.
X
‘Come doun, come doun, my mother dear,
Come aff the castle wa’!
I fear if langer ye stand there,
Ye’ll let yoursell doun fa’.’
XI
She’s ta’en a cake o’ the best bread,
A stoup o’ the best wine,
And a’ the keys upon her arm,
And to the yett[307] is gane.
XII
‘O ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,
To your castles and your towers;
Ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord,
To your ha’s, but and your bowers.
And welcome to your hame, fair lady!
For a’ that’s here is yours.’
XIII
‘O whatna lady’s that, my lord,
That welcomes you and me?
Gin I be lang about this place,
Her friend I mean to be.’