"O sleep ye, wake ye, Lillie Flower?

"The red sun's on the rain:

"Ye're bidden come to Silverwood,

"But I doubt ye'll never win hame."

She hadna ridden a mile, a mile,

A mile but barely three,

Ere she cam to a new made grave,

Beneath a green aik tree.

O then up started Jellon Grame,

Out of a bush thereby;