He's lifted his brother upon his back, Ta'en him to yon well fair; 20 He's wash'd his bluidy wounds o'er and o'er, But they bleed ay mair and mair. "Tak ye aff my Holland sark, And rive it gair by gair, And row it in my bluidy wounds, 25 And they'll ne'er bleed nae mair." He's taken aff his Holland sark, And torn it gair by gair; He's rowit it in his bluidy wounds, But they bleed ay mair and mair. 30 "Tak now aff my green cleiding, And row me saftly in; And tak me up to yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green." He's taken aff the green cleiding, 35 And rowed him saftly in; He's laid him down by yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green. "What will ye say to your father dear, When ye gae hame at e'en?" 40 "I'll say ye're lying at yon kirk style, Whare the grass grows fair and green." "O no, O no, my brother dear, O you must not say so; But say that I'm gane to a foreign land, 45 Whare nae man does me know." When he sat in his father's chair, He grew baith pale and wan: "O what blude 's that upon your brow? O dear son, tell to me." 50 "It is the blude o' my gude gray steed, He wadna ride wi' me." "O thy steed's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me: O what blude 's this upon your cheek? 55 O dear son, tell to me." "It is the blude of my greyhound, He wadna hunt for me." "O thy hound's blude was ne'er sae red, Nor e'er sae dear to me: 60 O what blude 's this upon your hand? O dear son, tell to me." "It is the blude of my gay goss hawk, He wadna flee for me." "O thy hawk's blude was ne'er sae red, 65 Nor e'er sae dear to me: O what blude 's this upon your dirk? Dear Willie, tell to me." "It is the blude of my ae brother, O dule and wae is me!" 70 "O what will ye say to your father? Dear Willie, tell to me." "I'll saddle my steed, and awa I'll ride To dwell in some far countrie." "O when will ye come hame again? 75 Dear Willie, tell to me." "When sun and mune leap on yon hill, And that will never be." She turn'd hersel' right round about, And her heart burst into three: 80 "My ae best son is deid and gane, And my tother ane I'll ne'er see." THE MILLER AND THE KING'S DAUGHTER. See p. 231.