"O Cow-me-doo, my luve sae true, It's time to gae to bed;" "Wi a' my heart, my dear marrow, It's be as ye hae said." Then he has staid in bower wi her For sax lang years and ane, Till sax young sons to him she bare, And the seventh she's brought hame. But aye as ever a child was born He carried them away, And brought them to his mither's care, As fast as he coud fly. Thus he has staid in bower wi her For twenty years and three; There came a lord o high renown To court this fair ladie. But still his proffer she refused, And a' his presents too; Says, I'm content to live alane Wi my bird, Cow-me-doo. Her father sware a solemn oath Amang the nobles all, "The morn, or ere I eat or drink, This bird I will gar kill." The bird was sitting in his cage, And heard what they did say; And when he found they were dismist, Says, Wae's me for this day! "Before that I do langer stay, And thus to be forlorn, I'll gang unto my mither's bower, Where I was bred and born." Then Cow-me-doo took flight and flew Beyond the raging sea, And lighted near his mither's castle, On a tower o gowd sae hie. As his mither was wauking out, To see what she coud see, And there she saw her little son, Set on the tower sae hie. "Get dancers here to dance," she said, "And minstrells for to play; For here's my young son, Florentine, Come here wi me to stay." "Get nae dancers to dance, mither, Nor minstrells for to play, For the mither o my seven sons, The morn's her wedding-day." "O tell me, tell me, Florentine, Tell me, and tell me true, Tell me this day without a flaw, What I will do for you." "Instead of dancers to dance, mither, Or minstrells for to play, Turn four-and-twenty wall-wight men Like storks in feathers gray; "My seven sons in seven swans, Aboon their heads to flee; And I mysell a gay gos-hawk, A bird o high degree." Then sichin said the queen hersell, "That thing's too high for me;" But she applied to an auld woman, Who had mair skill than she. Instead o dancers to dance a dance, Or minstrells for to play, Four-and-twenty wall-wight men Turnd birds o feathers gray; Her seven sons in seven swans, Aboon their heads to flee; And he himsell a gay gos-hawk, A bird o high degree. This flock o birds took flight and flew Beyond the raging sea, And landed near the Earl Mar's castle, Took shelter in every tree. They were a flock o pretty birds, Right comely to be seen; The people viewed them wi surprise, As they dancd on the green. These birds ascended frae the tree And lighted on the ha, And at the last wi force did flee Amang the nobles a'. The storks there seized some o the men, They coud neither fight nor flee; The swans they bound the bride's best man Below a green aik tree.