She leand her back against the wa, Says, “Robin, let a’ be; For it is a lady born and bred That’s foughten sae well wi thee.” O seven foot he lap a back; Says, “Alas, and wae is me! I never wisht in a’ my life, A woman’s blude to see; An ae for the sake of ae fair maid Whose name was White Lilly.” Then out it spake her White Lilly, An a hearty laugh laugh she: “She’s lived wi you this year an mair, Tho ye kenntna it was she.” Now word has gane thro a’ the lan, Before a month was done, That Brown Robin’s man, in good green wood, Had born a bonny young son. The word has gane to the kingis court, An to the king himsel; “Now, by my fay,” the king could say, “The like was never heard tell!” Then out it spake him Bold Arthur, An a hearty laugh laugh he: “I trow some may has playd the loun, And fled her ain country.” “Bring me my steed,” then cry’d the king, “My bow and arrows keen; I’ll ride mysel to good green wood, An see what’s to be seen.” “An’t please your grace,” said Bold Arthur, “My liege, I’ll gang you wi, An try to fin a little foot-page, That’s strayd awa frae me.” O they’ve hunted i the good green wood The buck but an the rae, An they drew near Brown Robin’s bowr, About the close of day. Then out it spake the king in hast, Says, “Arthur look an see Gin that be no your little foot-page That leans against yon tree.” Then Arthur took his bugle-horn, An blew a blast sae shrill; Sweet Willy started at the sound, An ran him quickly till. “O wanted ye your meat, Willy? Or wanted ye your fee? Or gat ye ever an angry word, That ye ran awa frae me?” “I wanted nought, my master dear; To me ye ay was good; I came but to see my ae brother, That wons in this green wood.” Then out it spake the king again, Says, “Bonny boy, tell to me, Wha lives into yon bigly bowr, Stands by yon green oak tree?” “Oh, pardon me,” says Sweet Willie, “My liege, I dare no tell; An I pray you go no near that bowr, For fear they do you fell.” “Oh, haud your tongue, my bonny boy, For I winna be said nay; But I will gang that bowr within, Betide me weal or wae.” They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds, An saftly enterd in, And there they saw her White Lilly, Nursing her bonny young son. “Now, by the rood,” the king coud say, “This is a comely sight; I trow, instead of a forrester’s man, This is a lady bright!” Then out it spake her, Rose the Red, An fell low down on her knee: “Oh, pardon us, my gracious liege, An our story I’ll tell thee. “Our father was a wealthy lord, That wond in Barnsdale; But we had a wicked step-mother, That wrought us meickle bale.