‘O is your bairn to laird or loun[77],
Or is it to your father’s groom?’—
XL
‘O hear me, mother, on my knee,
Till my sad story I tell to thee.
XLI
‘O we were sisters, sisters seven;
We were the fairest under heaven.
XLII
‘We had nae mair for our seven years’ wark
But to shape and sew the King’s son a sark.
XLIII
‘It fell on a summer’s afternoon,
When a’ our langsome task was done,