Lord Thomas and Fair Annet
Sat all day on a hill;
When night was come, and sun was set,
They had not talk’d their fill.
II
Lord Thomas said a word in jest,
Fair Annet took it ill:
‘I’ll never wed a tocherless[374] maid
Against my ain friends’ will.’—
III
‘Gif ye’ll not wed a tocherless wife,
A wife will ne’er wed ye:
Fare ye well now, Lord Thomas,
It’s fare ye well a wee.’
IV
O Annet she’s gane till her bower,
Lord Thomas down the den;
And he’s come till his mither’s bower
By the lee[375] light o’ the moon.
V
‘O sleep ye, wake ye, mither?’ he says,
‘Or are ye the bower within?’—
‘I sleep right aft, I wake right aft;
What want ye with me, son?