“O mak my bed, lady mother,” he says, “O mak it braid and deep! And lay Lady Marg’ret close at my back, And the sounder I will sleep.”— Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, Lady Marg’ret lang ere day— And all true lovers that go thegither, May they have mair luck than they! Lord William was buried in St. Marie’s kirk, Lady Margaret in Marie’s quire; Out o’ the lady’s grave grew a bonny red rose, And out o’ the knight’s a brier. And they twa met, and they twa plat, And fain they wad be near; And a’ the warld might ken right weel, They were twa lovers dear. But by and rade the Black Douglas, And wow but he was rough! For he pull’d up the bonny brier, An flang’t in St. Marie’s Loch. THE BONNY HIND (_Child_, vol. ii.) O MAY she comes, and may she goes, Down by yon gardens green, And there she spied a gallant squire As squire had ever been. And may she comes, and may she goes, Down by yon hollin tree, And there she spied a brisk young squire, And a brisk young squire was he. “Give me your green manteel, fair maid, Give me your maidenhead; Gif ye winna gie me your green manteel, Gi me your maidenhead.” He has taen her by the milk-white hand, And softly laid her down, And when he’s lifted her up again Given her a silver kaim. “Perhaps there may be bairns, kind sir, Perhaps there may be nane; But if you be a courtier, You’ll tell to me your name.” “I am na courtier, fair maid, But new come frae the sea; I am nae courtier, fair maid, But when I court’ith thee. “They call me Jack when I’m abroad, Sometimes they call me John; But when I’m in my father’s bower Jock Randal is my name.” “Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny lad, Sae loud’s I hear ye lee! For I’m Lord Randal’s yae daughter, He has nae mair nor me.” “Ye lee, ye lee, ye bonny may, Sae loud’s I hear ye lee! For I’m Lord Randal’s yae yae son, Just now come oer the sea.” She’s putten her hand down by her spare And out she’s taen a knife, And she has putn’t in her heart’s bluid, And taen away her life. And he’s taen up his bonny sister, With the big tear in his een, And he has buried his bonny sister Amang the hollins green. And syne he’s hyed him oer the dale, His father dear to see: “Sing O and O for my bonny hind, Beneath yon hollin tree!” “What needs you care for your bonny hyn? For it you needna care; There’s aught score hyns in yonder park, And five score hyns to spare. “Fourscore of them are siller-shod, Of thae ye may get three;” “But O and O for my bonny hyn, Beneath yon hollin tree!”