But this pass'd on, and farther on, 160 For two months and a day, Till word came to the bauld barone, And an angry man was he. The barone swore a solemn oath, An angry man was he, 165 "The morn, before I eat or drink, High hanged shall he be." "Farewell, my lovely maiden fair, A long adieu to thee; Your father's sworn a solemn swear 170 That hanged I shall be." "O woe's me," the lady said, "Yet do not troubled be; If e'er they touch the hair on thy head, They'll get no good of me." 175 He turn'd him right and round about, And a loud loud laugh gae he; "That man stood never in the court That dare this day hang me." The lady spake from her bouir door, 180 An angry woman was she; "What insolence in you to tryst Her to the green wood tree." "If she had not given her consent, She had not gone wi me; 185 If she came a maiden to green wood, She return'd again for me." He turn'd him right and round about, And a loud loud laugh gae he; "Ye may wed your daughter whan ye will, 190 She's none the worse for me." He has gone whistling o'er the knowe, Swift as the bird that flaw; The lady stood in her bouir door, And lout the salt tears fa. 195 But this pass'd on, and further on, A twelve month and a day, Till there came a knight and a barone bright To woo this lady gay. He soon gain'd the baronne's will, 200 Likewise the mother gay; He woo'd and won the lady's love, But by a slow degree. "O weel befa' you, daughter dear, And happy may ye be, 205 To lay your love on the grand knight, And let the hireman be." "O haud your tongue, my father dear, And speak not so to me; Far more I love the hireman chiel 210 Than a' the knights I see. The morn was come, and bells were rung, And all to church repair; But like the rose among the throng Was the lady and her maries fair. 215 But as they walked o'er the field, Among the flowers fair, Beneath a tree stood on the plain, The hireman chiel was there. "I wish you joy, my gay madam, 220 And aye well may ye be; There is a ring, a pledge of love, That ance I got from thee." "O wae befa' ye, you hireman chiel, Some ill death may ye die; 225 Ye might hae tauld to me your name, Your hame, or what countrie."