13. ‘Ye bid him bake his bridal bread, And brew his bridal ale, An’ I’ll meet him in fair Scotlan’ Lang, lang or it be stale.’ 14. She’s doen her to her father dear, Fa’n low down on her knee: ‘A boon, a boon, my father dear, I pray you, grant it me.’ 15. ‘Ask on, ask on, my daughter, An’ granted it sal be; Except ae squire in fair Scotlan’, An’ him you sall never see.’ 16. ‘The only boon my father dear, That I do crave of the, Is, gin I die in southin lans, In Scotland to bury me. 17. ‘An’ the firstin kirk that ye come till, Ye gar the bells be rung, An’ the nextin kirk that ye come till, Ye gar the mess be sung. 18. ‘An’ the thirdin kirk that ye come till, You deal gold for my sake, An’ the fourthin kirk that ye come till, You tarry there till night.’ 19. She is doen her to her bigly bow’r, As fast as she coud fare, An’ she has tane a sleepy draught, That she had mix’d wi’ care. 20. She’s laid her down upon her bed, An’ soon she’s fa’n asleep, And soon o’er every tender limb Cauld death began to creep. 21. Whan night was flown, an’ day was come, Nae ane that did her see But thought she was as surely dead As ony lady coud be. 22. Her father an’ her brothers dear Gard make to her a bier; The tae half was o’ guid red gold, The tither o’ silver clear. 23. Her mither an’ her sisters fair Gard work for her a sark; The tae half was o’ cambrick fine, The tither o’ needle wark. 24. The firstin kirk that they came till, They gard the bells be rung, An’ the nextin kirk that they came till, They gard the mess be sung. 25. The thirdin kirk that they came till, They dealt gold for her sake, An’ the fourthin kirk that they came till, Lo, there they met her make! 26. ‘Lay down, lay down the bigly bier, Lat me the dead look on’; Wi’ cherry cheeks and ruby lips She lay an’ smil’d on him. 27. ‘O ae sheave o’ your bread, true-love, An’ ae glass o’ your wine, For I hae fasted for your sake These fully days is nine. 28. ‘Gang hame, gang hame, my seven bold brothers, Gang hame and sound your horn; An’ ye may boast in southin lan’s Your sister’s play’d you scorn.’ [Annotations: 2.3: ‘couth,’ word.--+Jamieson+. The derivation, from Anglo-Saxon _cwide_, is hard. 7.3: ‘she’ is the goshawk; called ‘he’ in 1.2. 8.3: ‘shot-window,’ here perhaps a bow-window. 9.2: ‘streen’ = yestreen, last evening. 19.1: ‘bigly,’ _lit._ habitable; the stock epithet of ‘bower.’ 25.4: ‘make,’ mate, lover. 27.1: ‘sheave,’ slice.] BROWN ROBIN +The Text+ is here given from the Jamieson-Brown MS. Versions, lengthened and therefore less succinct and natural, are given in Christie’s _Traditional Ballad Airs_ (_Love Robbie_) and in Buchan’s _Ballads of the North of Scotland_ (_Brown Robyn and Mally_).