Nay, ye are young, ye are over fair. (One with another.) Though I be young, what needs ye care? (Mother, my mother.) Nay, ye are fair, ye are over sweet. (One with another.) Though I be fair, what needs ye greet? (Mother, my mother.) Nay, ye are mine while I hold my life. (One with another.) O fool, will ye marry the worm for a wife? (Mother, my mother.) Nay, ye are mine while I have my breath. (One with another.) O fool, will ye marry the dust of death? (Mother, my mother.) Yea, ye are mine, we are handfast wed, One with another. Nay, I am no man's; nay, I am dead, Mother, my mother. THE WINDS O weary fa' the east wind, And weary fa' the west: And gin I were under the wan waves wide I wot weel wad I rest. O weary fa' the north wind, And weary fa' the south: The sea went ower my good lord's head Or ever he kissed my mouth. Weary fa' the windward rocks, And weary fa' the lee: They might hae sunken sevenscore ships, And let my love's gang free. And weary fa' ye, mariners a', And weary fa' the sea: It might hae taken an hundred men, And let my ae love be. A LYKE-WAKE SONG Fair of face, full of pride, Sit ye down by a dead man's side. Ye sang songs a' the day: Sit down at night in the red worm's way. Proud ye were a' day long: Ye'll be but lean at evensong. Ye had gowd kells on your hair: Nae man kens what ye were. Ye set scorn by the silken stuff: Now the grave is clean enough. Ye set scorn by the rubis ring: Now the worm is a saft sweet thing. Fine gold and blithe fair face, Ye are come to a grimly place. Gold hair and glad grey een, Nae man kens if ye have been. A REIVER'S NECK-VERSE Some die singing, and some die swinging, And weel mot a' they be: Some die playing, and some die praying, And I wot sae winna we, my dear, And I wot sae winna we. Some die sailing, and some die wailing, And some die fair and free: Some die flyting, and some die fighting, But I for a fause love's fee, my dear, But I for a fause love's fee. Some die laughing, and some die quaffing, And some die high on tree: Some die spinning, and some die sinning, But faggot and fire for ye, my dear, Faggot and fire for ye. Some die weeping, and some die sleeping, And some die under sea: Some die ganging, and some die hanging, And a twine of a tow for me, my dear, A twine of a tow for me. THE WITCH-MOTHER "O where will ye gang to and where will ye sleep, Against the night begins?" "My bed is made wi' cauld sorrows, My sheets are lined wi' sins.