O out and spake her, Rose the Red,
And fell low on her knee:—
"O pardon us, my gracious liege,
"And our story I'll tell thee.
"Our father is a wealthy lord,
"Lives into Barnisdale;
"But we had a wicked step-mother,
"That wrought us meikle bale.
"Yet had she twa as fu' fair sons,
"As e'er the sun did see;