And when he came to the stable-door,
Full still there he did stand,
That he might hear Burd Ellen,
How she made her monand[337].
XLVI
She said, ‘Lullabyè, my own dear child!
Lùllabye, dear child dear!
I would thy father were a king,
Thy mother laid on a bier!’—
XLVII
‘O open the door, Burd Ellen!
O open and let me in!
I want to see if my steed be fed,
Or my greyhounds fit to rin.’—
XLVIII
‘How can I open, how shall I open,
How can I open to thee,
When lying amang your great steeds’ feet,
Your young son on my knee?’
XLIX
He strack the door hard wi’ his foot,
And push’d it wi’ his knee;
And iron locks and iron bars
Into the floor flung he.
‘Be not afraid, Burd Ellen,’ he says,
‘There’s none comes in but me.’