But there was nae a quarter past, A quarter past but three, Till these young luvers a' were fond 15 O' others companie. The knights they harped i' their bower, The ladies sew'd and sang; There was mair mirth in that chamer Than a' their father's lan'. 20 Then out it spak their step-mither, At the stair-foot stood she; "I'm plagued wi' your troublesome noise, What makes your melodie? "O Rose the Red, ye sing too loud, 25 While Lillie your voice is strang; But gin I live and brook my life, I'se gar you change your sang." "We maunna change our loud, loud song, For nae duke's son ye'll bear; 30 We winna change our loud, loud song, But aye we'll sing the mair. "We never sung the sang, mither, But we'll sing ower again; We'll take our harps into our hands, 35 And we'll harp, and we'll sing." She's call'd upon her twa young sons, Says, "Boun ye for the sea; Let Rose the Red, and White Lillie, Stay in their bower wi' me." 40 "O God forbid," said her eldest son, "Nor lat it ever be, Unless ye were as kind to our luves As gin we were them wi." "Yet never the less, my pretty sons, 45 Ye'll boun you for the faem; Let Rose the Red, and White Lillie, Stay in their bowers at hame." "O when wi' you we came alang, We felt the stormy sea; 50 And where we go, ye ne'er shall know, Nor shall be known by thee." Then wi' her harsh and boisterous word, She forc'd these lads away; While Rose the Red and White Lillie 55 Still in their bowers did stay. But there was not a quarter past, A quarter past but ane; Till Rose the Red in rags she gaed, White Lillie's claithing grew thin. 60 Wi' bitter usage every day, The ladies they thought lang; "Ohon, alas!" said Rose the Red, "She's gar'd us change our sang. "But we will change our own fu' names, 65 And we'll gang frae the town; Frae Rose the Red and White Lillie, To Nicholas and Roger Brown. "And we will cut our green claithing A little aboon our knee; 70 And we will on to gude greenwood, Twa bauld bowmen to be." "Ohon, alas!" said White Lillie, "My fingers are but sma'; And tho' my hands wou'd wield the bow, 75 They winna yield at a'." "O had your tongue now, White Lillie, And lat these fears a' be; There's naething that ye're awkward in But I will learn thee." 80