"O whare got ye that water, Annie, That washes you sae white?" "I got it in my mither's wambe, Whare ye'll ne'er get the like. 110 "For ye've been wash'd in Dunny's well, And dried on Dunny's dyke; And a' the water in the sea Will never wash ye white." Willie's ta'en a rose out o' his hat, 115 Laid it in Annie's lap; "[The bonniest to the bonniest fa's,] Hae, wear it for my sake." "Tak up and wear your rose, Willie, And wear't wi' mickle care, 120 For the woman sall never bear a son, That will mak my heart sae sair." Whan night was come, and day was gane, And a' man boun to bed, Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride 125 In their chamber were laid. They werena weel lyen down, And scarcely fa'n asleep, Whan up and stands she, fair Annie, Just up at Willie's feet. 130 "Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride, Between ye and the wa'; And sae will I o' my winding sheet, That suits me best ava. "Weel brook ye o' your brown brown bride, 135 Between ye and the stock; And sae will I o' my black black kist, That has neither key nor lock." Sad Willie raise, put on his claise, Drew till him his hose and shoon, 140 And he is on to Annie's bower, By the lei light o' the moon. The firsten bower that he came till, There was right dowie wark; Her mither and her three sisters 145 Were makin' to Annie a sark. The nexten bower that he came till, There was right dowie cheir; Her father and her seven brethren Were makin' to Annie a bier. 150 The lasten bower, that he came till, [O heavy was his care! The waxen lights were burning bright,] And fair Annie streekit there. He's lifted up the coverlet, 155 [Where she, fair Annie, lay; Sweet was her smile, but wan her cheek; O wan, and cald as clay!] "It's I will kiss your bonny cheek, And I will kiss your chin; 160 And I will kiss your clay-cald lip; But I'll never kiss woman again. "The day ye deal at Annie's burial The bread but and the wine; Before the morn at twall o'clock, 165 They'll deal the same at mine." The tane was buried in Mary's kirk, The tither in Mary's quire; And out o' the tane there grew a birk, And out o' the tither a brier. 170