Her father's drawn her by both hands, He's rent her gown from her, He's ta'en the smock round her body, Cast in the sea-water. The captain's drawn her by both sides Out of the fair green sea; "Stand up, stand up, thou May Janet, And come to the war with me." The first town they came to There was a blue bride-chamber; He clothed her on with silk And belted her with amber. The second town they came to The bridesmen feasted knee to knee; He clothed her on with silver, A stately thing to see. The third town they came to The bridesmaids all had gowns of gold; He clothed her on with purple, A rich thing to behold. The last town they came to He clothed her white and red, With a green flag either side of her And a gold flag overhead. THE BLOODY SON (FINNISH) "O where have ye been the morn sae late, My merry son, come tell me hither? O where have ye been the morn sae late? And I wot I hae not anither." "By the water-gate, by the water-gate, O dear mither." "And whatten kin' o' wark had ye there to make, My merry son, come tell me hither? And whatten kin' o' wark had ye there to make? And I wot I hae not anither." "I watered my steeds with water frae the lake, O dear mither." "Why is your coat sae fouled the day, My merry son, come tell me hither? Why is your coat sae fouled the day? And I wot I hae not anither." "The steeds were stamping sair by the weary banks of clay, O dear mither." "And where gat ye thae sleeves of red, My merry son, come tell me hither? And where gat ye thae sleeves of red? And I wot I hae not anither." "I have slain my ae brither by the weary waterhead, O dear mither." "And where will ye gang to mak your mend, My merry son, come tell me hither? And where will ye gang to mak your mend? And I wot I hae not anither." "The warldis way, to the warldis end, O dear mither." "And what will ye leave your father dear, My merry son, come tell me hither? And what will ye leave your father dear? And I wot I hae not anither." "The wood to fell and the logs to bear, For he'll never see my body mair, O dear mither." "And what will ye leave your mither dear, My merry son, come tell me hither? And what will ye leave your mither dear? And I wot I hae not anither." "The wool to card and the wool to wear, For ye'll never see my body mair, O dear mither." "And what will ye leave for your wife to take, My merry son, come tell me hither? And what will ye leave for your wife to take? And I wot I hae not anither." "A goodly gown and a fair new make, For she'll do nae mair for my body's sake, O dear mither."