VI
‘An’ four-and-twenty gay ladies
Will to the mass repair,
But well sall ye my true-love ken,
For she wears gowd on her hair.’
VII
O even at that lady’s bower door
There grows a bowing birk,
An’ he set down and sang thereon,
As she gaed to the kirk.
VIII
‘O eet and drink, my marys[417] a’,
The wine flows you among,
Till I gang to my shot-window[418],
An’ hear yon bonny bird’s song.
IX
‘Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird,
The song ye sang the streen[419],
For I ken by your sweet singin’
You’re frae my true-love sen.’
X
O first he sang a merry song,
An’ then he sang a grave,
An’ then he peck’d his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.