He’s ta’en his young son in his arms
And kiss’d him cheek and chin,
And he’s awa’ to his mother’s bower
By the hie light o’ the moon.
XII
‘O open, open, mother!’ he says,
‘O open, and let me in!
The rain rains on my yellow hair
And the dew drops o’er my chin;
And I hae my young son in my arms,—
I fear that his days are dune.’
XIII
Then with her fingers long and sma’
She lifted up the pin,
And with her arms sae long and sma’
Received the baby in.
XIV
‘Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie,
And comfort your fair ladye;
For where ye had but ae nourice
Your young son shall hae three.’
XV
Willie he was scarce awa’
And Janet put to bed,
When in and came her father dear:
‘Mak’ haste, and busk[360] the bride!’—