XXIII
O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth,
And cherry were her cheiks,
And clear, clear was her yellow hair,
Whereon the red blood dreips.
XXIV
Then wi’ his spear he turn’d her owre;
O gin her face was wane!
He said, ‘Ye are the first that e’er
I wish’d alive again.’
XXV
He turn’d her owre and owre again;
O gin her skin was white!
‘I might hae spared that bonnie face
To hae been some man’s delight.
XXVI
‘Busk and boun[483], my merry men a’,
For ill dooms I do guess;
I canna look in that bonnie face
As it lies on the grass.’—
XXVII
‘Wha looks to freits[484], my master dear,
It’s freits will follow them;
Let it ne’er be said that Edom o’ Gordon
Was daunted by a dame.’