The road it was lang and was weary; The braes they were ill for to climb; Bonnie Lizie was weary wi' travelling, A fit further couldna she win. "O are we near hame yet, dear Donald? O are we near hame yet, I pray?" "We're naething near hame, bonnie Lizie, Nor yet the half o' the way." Sair, O sair was she sighing, And the saut tear blindit her e'e: "Gin this be the pleasures o' luving, They never will do wi' me!" "Now haud your tongue, bonnie Lizie; Ye never sall rue for me; Gie me but your luve for my ain luve, It is a' that your tocher will be. "O haud your tongue, bonnie Lizie, Altho' that the gait seem lang; And you's hae the wale o' gude living When to Kincaussie we gang. "My father he is an auld shepherd, My mither she is an auld dey; And we'll sleep on a bed o' green rashes, And dine on fresh curds and green whey." They cam' to a hamely puir cottage; The auld woman 'gan for to say: "O ye're welcome hame, Sir Donald, It's yoursell has been lang away." "Ye mustna ca' me Sir Donald, But ca' me young Donald your son; For I hae a bonnie young leddy Behind me, that's coming alang. "Come in, come in, bonnie Lizie, Come hither, come hither," said he; "Altho' that our cottage be leetle, I hope we'll the better agree. "O mak' us a supper, dear mither, And mak' it o' curds and green whey; And mak' us a bed o' green rashes, And cover it o'er wi' fresh hay." She's made them a bed o' green rashes, And covered it o'er wi' fresh hay. Bonnie Lizie was weary wi' travelling, And lay till 'twas lang o' the day. "The sun looks in o'er the hill-head, An' the laverock is liltin' sae gay; Get up, get up, bonnie Lizie, Ye've lain till it's lang o' the day. "Ye might hae been out at the shealin', Instead o' sae lang to lie; And up and helping my mither To milk her gaits and her kye." Then sadly spak' out Lizie Lindsay, She spak' it wi' mony a sigh: "The leddies o' Edinbro' city They milk neither gaits nor kye." "Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizie, Rise up and mak' yoursel' fine; For we maun be at Kincaussie, Before that the clock strikes nine." But when they cam' to Kincaussie, The porter he loudly doth say, "O ye're welcome hame, Sir Donald; It's yoursell has been lang away!" It's doun then cam' his auld mither, Wi' a' the keys in her han'; Saying, "Tak' ye these, bonnie Lizie, For a' is at your comman'." * * * * * KATHARINE JANFARIE. There was a may, and a weel-faur'd may. Lived high up in yon glen: Her name was Katharine Janfarie, She was courted by mony men. Doun cam' the Laird o' Lamington, Doun frae the South Countrie; And he is for this bonny lass, Her bridegroom for to be. He asked na her father, he asked na her mither, He asked na ane o' her kin; But he whispered the bonny lassie hersel', And did her favor win.