O Alison Gross, that lives in yon tower, The ugliest witch in the north countrie, Has trysted me ae day up till her bower, And mony fair speech she made to me. She straiked my head, and she kaim'd my hair, And she set me down saftly on her knee; Says, "Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, Sae mony braw things as I wad you gie." She shaw'd me a mantle o' red scarlet, Wi' gowden flowers and fringes fine; Says, "Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, This gudely gift it sall be thine." "Awa', awa', ye ugly witch! Haud far awa', and lat me be; I never will be your lemman sae true, And I wish I were out o' your companie." She neist brocht a sark o' the saftest silk, Weel wrought wi' pearls about the band; Says, "Gin ye will be my ain true-love, This gudely gift ye sall command." She shaw'd me a cup o' the gude red gowd, Weel set wi' jewels sae fair to see; Says, "Gin ye will be my lemman sae true, This gudely gift I will you gie." "Awa', awa', ye ugly witch! Haud far awa', and lat me be; For I wadna ance kiss your ugly mouth For a' the gifts that you could gie." She's turn'd her richt and round about, And thrice she blew on a grass-green horn; And she sware by the moon, and the stars That she'd gar me rue the day I was born. Then out she has ta'en a silver wand, And she's turn'd her three times round and round; She's muttered sic words, that my strength it fail'd, And I fell down senseless on the ground. She's turned me into an ugly worm, And gar'd me toddle about the tree; And ay, on ilka Saturday's night, Auld Alison Gross, she cam' to me, Wi' silver basin, and silver kaim, To kaim my headie upon her knee; But or I had kiss'd her ugly mouth, I'd rather hae toddled about the tree. But as it fell out on last Hallowe'en, When the Seely Court was ridin' by, The Queen lighted down on a gowan bank, Nae far frae the tree where I wont to lye. She took me up in her milk-white hand, And she straiked me three times o'er her knee; She changed me again to my ain proper shape, And I nae mair maun toddle about the tree. * * * * * THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL. There lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them o'er the sea. They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, When word cam' to the carline wife, That her three sons were gane. They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, When word cam' to the carline wife, That her sons she'd never see. "I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fashes in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me, In earthly flesh and blood!" It fell about the Martinmas, When nights are lang and mirk, The carline wife's three sons cam' hame, And their hats were o' the birk. It neither grew in syke nor ditch, Nor yet in ony sheugh; But at the gates o' Paradise, That birk grew fair eneugh.