"But gin ye take that bugle-horn, And wind a blast sae shrill, 110 I hae a brother in yonder court, Will come me quickly till." "O gin ye hae a brother on earth, That ye lo'e mair than me, Ye may blow the horn yoursell," he says, 115 "For a blast I winna gie." She's ta'en the bugle in her hand, And blawn baith loud and shrill; Sweet William started at the sound, And came her quickly till. 120 O up and starts him, Brown Robin, And swore by Our Ladye, "No man shall come into this bour, But first maun fight wi' me." O they hae fought the wood within, 125 Till the sun was going down; And drops o' blood frae Rose the Red Came pouring to the ground. She leant her back against an aik, Said, "Robin, let me be; 130 For it is a ladye, bred and born, That has fought this day wi' thee." O seven foot he started back, Cried, "Alas and woe is me! For I wished never, in all my life, 135 A woman's bluid to see: "And that all for the knightly vow I swore to Our Ladye; But mair for the sake o' ae fair maid, Whose name was White Lilly." 140 Then out and spake her Rouge the Rounde, And leugh right hertilie, "She has been wi' ye this year and mair, Though ye wistna it was she." Now word is gane through all the land, 145 Before a month was gane, That a foresters page, in gude grene-wood, Had born a bonny son. The marvel gaed to the kings court, And to the king himsell; 150 "Now, by my fae," the king did say, "The like was never heard tell!" Then out and spake him Bauld Arthur, And laugh'd right loud and hie-- "I trow some may has plaid the lown, 155 And fled her ain countrie." "Bring me my steid," the King can say, "My bow and arrows keen; And I'll gae hunt in yonder wood, And see what's to be seen." 160 "Gin it please your grace," quo' Bauld Arthur, "My liege, I'll gang you wi', And see gin I can meet a bonny page, That's stray'd awa frae me." And they hae chased in gude green-wood, 165 The buck but and the rae, Till they drew near Brown Robin's bour, About the close o' day. Then out an' spake the king himsell, Says, "Arthur, look and see, 170 Gin yon be not your favourite page, That leans against yon tree." O Arthur's ta'en a bugle-horn, And blawn a blast sae shrill; Sweet Willie started to her feet, 175 And ran him quickly till.