"O, ye may gang to the Broomfield hill,
"And yet come maiden hame.
"For, when ye gang to the Broomfield hill,
"Ye'll find your love asleep,
"With a silver-belt about his head,
"And a broom-cow at his feet.
"Take ye the blossom of the broom,
"The blossom it smells sweet,
"And strew it at your true love's head,
"And likewise at his feet.