The Provost's dochter went out a walking, _A may's love whiles is easie won_; She heard a puir prisoner making his meane, And she was the fair flow'r o' Northumberland. "Gif onie ladie wad borrow me 5 Out into this prison strang, I wad make her a ladie o' hie degree, For I am a gret lard in fair Scotland." She has dune her to her father's bed-stock, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! 10 She has stown the keys o' monie braw lock, And she has lows'd him out o' prison strang. She has dune her to her father's stable, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! She has tane out a steed, baith swift and able, 15 To carry them baith to fair Scotland. Whan they cam to the Scottish corss, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! "Ye brazen-faced hure, licht aff o' my horse, And go, get ye back to Northumberland." 20 Whan they cam to the Scottish muir, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! "Get aff o' my horse, ye brazen-fac'd hure, So, go, get ye back to Northumberland." "O pity on me! O pity!" said she, 25 "O that my love was so easie won! Have pity on me, as I had upon thee, Whan I lows'd ye out o' prison strang." "O how can I hae pity on thee? O why was your love sae easie won? 30 Whan I hae a wife and children three, Mair worthy than a' in Northumberland." "Cook in your kitchen I will be,-- O that my love was sae easie won! And serve your lady maist reverentlie, 35 For I darna gang back to Northumberland." "Cook in my kitchen, ye sall not be,-- Why was your love so easie won? For I will hae na sic servants as thee, So, get ye back to Northumberland. 40 But laith was he the lassie to tyne, _A may's love whiles is easie won_! He hired an auld horse, and fee'd an auld man, To carry her back to Northumberland. Whan she cam her father afore, 45 _A may's love whiles is easie won_! She fell at his feet on her knees sae low,-- She was the fair flow'r o' Northumberland. "O dochter, dochter, why was ye bauld, O why was your love sae easie won! 50 To be a Scot's hure in your fifteen year auld, And ye the fair flow'r o' Northumberland!" Her mother on her sae gentlie smil'd,-- "O that her love was sae easie won! She's na the first that the Scots hae beguil'd, 55 And she's still the fair flow'r o' Northumberland.