And never shed one tear,
Until that she saw her seven brethren fa',
And her father hard fighting, who lov'd her so dear.
"O hold your hand, Lord William!" she said,
"For your strokes they are wond'rous sair;
"True lovers I can get many a ane,
"But a father I can never get mair."
O she's ta'en out her handkerchief,
It was o' the holland sae fine,
And ay she dighted her father's bloody wounds,