Lord Randal wight, on a summer's night, Was riding o'er the lee, And there he saw a bonny birdie Was singin' on a tree: "O wow for day! 5 And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away, For I ha'ena lang time to stay! "Mak haste, mak haste, ye wicht baron; What keeps ye here sae late? 10 Gin ye kent what was doing at hame, I trow ye wad look blate. "And O wow for day! And dear gin it were day. Gin it were day, and ye were away; 15 For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!" "O what needs I toil day and night, My fair body to spill, When I ha'e knichts at my command, And ladies at my will?" 20 "O weel is he, ye wight baron, Has the blear drawn o'er his e'e; But your lady has a knight in her arms twa, That she lo'es far better nor thee. "And O wow for day! 25 And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and ye were away; For ye ha'ena lang time to stay!" "Ye lie, ye lie, ye bonny birdie; How you lie upon my sweet; 30 I will tak out my bonny bow, And in troth I will you sheet." "But afore ye ha'e your bow weel bent, And a' your arrows yare, I will flee till anither tree, 35 Whare I can better fare. "And O wow for day And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and I were away; For I ha'ena lang time to stay!" 40 "O whare was ye gotten, and where was ye clecked, My bonny birdie, tell me?" "O, I was clecked in good green wood, Intill a holly tree; A baron sae bald my nest herried, 45 And ga'e me to his ladie. "Wi' good white bread, and farrow-cow milk, He bade her feed me aft; And ga'e her a little wee summer-dale wandie, To ding me sindle and saft. 50 "Wi' good white bread, and farrow-cow milk, I wat she fed me nought; But wi' a little wee summer-dale wandie, She dang me sair and oft:-- Gin she had done as ye her bade, 55 I wadna tell how she has wrought. "And O wow for day! And dear gin it were day! Gin it were day, and ye were away; For ye ha'ena lang time to stay." 60 Lord Randal rade, and the birdie flew, The live-lang summer's night, Till he cam till his lady's bower-door, Then even down he did light. The birdie sat on the crap o' a tree, 65 And I wat it sang fu' dight: