‘O whare is a’ my merry young men,
Whom I gi’ meat and fee,
To pu’ the thistle and the thorn,
To burn this woman wi’?’—
XVIII
She turn’d her head on her left shoulder,
Saw her girdle hang on a tree;
‘O God bless them wha gave me that,
They’ll never give more to me.
XIX
‘O whare will I get a bonny boy,
To help me in my need,
To rin wi’ haste to Lord William,
And bid him come wi’ speed?’—
XX
O out it spake a bonny boy,
Stood by her brother’s side:
‘O I would run your errand, lady,
O’er a’ the world sae wide.
XXI
‘Aft have I run your errands, lady,
Whan blawn baith win’ and weet;
But now I’ll rin your errand, lady,
Wi’ saut tears on my cheek.’