Wi' his ain sword belt sae fast as she ban' him, With his ain dag-dirk sae sair as she dang him. "If seven kings' daughters here ye ha'e slain, Lie ye here, a husband to them a'." FAIR JANET |Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, Ye maun gang to him soon; Ye maun gang to your father, Janet, In case that his days are dune!" Janet's awa' to her father, As fast as she could hie; "O what's your will wi' me, father? O what's your will wi' me?" (_ban'_, bound. _dag-dirk_, dagger. _dang_, struck.) "My will wi' you, Fair Janet," he said, "It is both bed and board; Some say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie, But ye maun wed a French lord." "A French lord maun I wed, father? A French lord maun I wed? Then, by my sooth," quo' Fair Janet, "He's ne'er enter my bed." Janet's awa' to her chamber, As fast as she could go; Wha's the first ane that tapped there, But Sweet Willie her jo! "O we maun part this love, Willie, That has been lang between; There's a French lord coming o'er the sea To wed me wi' a ring; There's a French lord coming o'er the sea, To wed and tak me hame." "If we maun part this love, Janet, It causeth mickle woe; If we maun part this love, Janet, It makes me into mourning go." "But ye maun gang to your three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean; Tell them to come to Fair Janet, In case that her days are dune." Willie's awa to his three sisters, Meg, Marion, and Jean; "O haste, and gang to Fair Janet, I fear that her days are dune." Some drew to them their silken hose, Some drew to them their shoon, Some drew to them their silk mantles, Their coverings to put on; And they re awa to Fair Janet, By the high light o' the moon. "O I have born this babe, Willie, Wi' mickle toil and pain; Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie, For nurse I dare be nane." He's tane his young son in his arms, And kissed him cheek and chin,-- And he's awa' to his mother's bower, By the high light o' the moon. "O open, open, mother," he says, "O open, and let me in; The rain rains on my yellow hair, And the dew drops o'er my chin,-- And I hae my young son in my arms, I fear that his days are dune." With her fingers lang and sma' She lifted up the pin; And with her arms lang and sma Received the baby in. "Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie, And comfort your fair lady; For where ye had but ae nourice, Your young son shall hae three." Willie he was scarce awa, And the lady put to bed, When in and came her father dear: "Make haste, and busk the bride." "There's a sair pain in my head, father, There's a sair pain in my side; And ill, O ill, am I, father, This day for to be a bride. "O ye maun busk this bonny bride, And put a gay mantle on;