‘O mercy, mercy, Lamkin,
Hae mercy upon me!
Though you hae ta’en my young son’s life,
Ye may let mysel’ be.’—
XXI
‘O sall I kill her, nourice,
Or sall I lat her be?’—
‘O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,
For she ne’er was good to me.’—
XXII
‘O scour the bason, nourice,
And mak’ it fair and clean,
For to keep this lady’s heart’s blood,
For she’s come o’ noble kin.’—
XXIII
‘There need nae bason, Lamkin,
Lat it run through the floor;
What better is the heart’s blood
O’ the rich than o’ the poor?’
XXIV
But ere three months were at an end,
Lord Wearie came again;
But dowie[493], dowie was his heart
When first he came hame.