XLVIII
The King has ta’en him by the hand
And bade him naething dread;
Says, ‘Ye maun leave the good green-wood,
Come to the court wi’ speed.’
XLIX
Then up he took Brown Robin’s son,
And set him on his knee;
Says, ‘Gin ye live to wield a bran’,
My bowman ye sall be.’
L
The King he sent for robes o’ green,
And girdles o’ shining gold;
He gart the ladies be array’d
Most comely to behold.
LI
They’ve doen them unto Mary Kirk,
And there gat fair weddìng,
And whan the news spread o’er the lan’,
For joy the bells did ring.
LII
Then out it spak’ her Rose the Red,
And a hearty laugh laugh’d she;
‘I wonder what would our step-dame say,
Gin she this sight did see!’