Then out it spak’ the lady,
As she stood on the stair:
‘What ails my bairn, nourice,
That he’s greeting[492] sae sair?
XVI
‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi’ the pap!’—
‘He winna still, lady,
For this nor for that.’—
XVII
‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi’ the wand!’—
‘He winna still, lady,
For a’ his father’s land.’—
XVIII
‘O still my bairn, nourice,
O still him wi’ the bell!’—
‘He winna still, lady,
Till ye come down yoursel’.’—
XIX
O the firsten step she steppit,
She steppit on a stane;
But the neisten step she steppit,
She met him Lamkin.