XXXVII
‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither,
I wish it may bring good!
That the bonny lass of Lochroyan
At my bower window stood.
XXXVIII
‘O I hae dream’d a dream, mither,
The thought o’t gars me greet!
That fair Annie of Lochroyan
Lay dead at my bed-feet.’—
XXXIX
‘Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan
That ye mak a’ this mane,
She stood last night at your bower-door,
But I hae sent her hame.’—
XL
‘O wae betide ye, ill woman,
An ill death may ye die!
That wadna open the door yoursell
Nor yet wad waken me.’
XLI
O he’s gane down to yon shore-side,
As fast as he could dree,
And there he saw fair Annie’s bark
A rowing owre the sea.