"Ye are frae my true love sen'."
O first he sang a merry sang,
And syne he sang a grave;
And syne he peck'd his feathers gray,
To her the letter gave.
"Have there a letter from Lord William;
"He says he's sent ye three:
"He canna wait your love langer,
"But for your sake he'll die."
"Gae bid him bake his bridal bread,