"What will ye leave to your sister Grace?" "My bloody clothes to wash and dress." "What will ye leave to your brother John?" "The gallows-tree to hang him on." "What will ye leave to your brother John's wife?" "The wilderness to end her life." This fair lady in her grave was laid, And a mass was o'er her said. But it would have made your heart right sair, To see the bridegroom rive his hair. (_rive_, tear.) LAMKIN |It's Lamkin was a mason good As ever built with stane, He built Lord Wearies castle, But payment gat he nane. "O pay me, Lord Wearie; Come pay me my fee." "I canna pay you Lamkin, For I maun gang o'er the sea." "O pay me now, Lord Wearie; Come, pay me out o' hand." "I canna pay you, Lamkin, Unless I sell my land." "O gin ye winna pay me, I here sall mak a vow, Before that ye come hame again, Ye sall ha'e cause to rue." Lord Wearie got a bonny ship, To sail the saut sea faem; Bade his lady weel the castle keep, Ay till he should come hame. (_faem_, foam.) But the nourice was a fause limmer As e'er hung on a tree; She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, When her lord was o'er the sea. She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, When the servants were awa'; Let him in at a little shot window, And brought him to the ha. "O where's a' the men o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?" "They're at the barn well thrashing, 'Twill be lang ere they come in." "And where's the women o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?" "They're at the far well washing; 'Twill be lang ere they come in." "And where's the bairns o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?" "They're at the school reading; 'Twill be night or they come hame." "O where's the lady o' this house, That ca's me Lamkin?" "She's up in her bower sewing, But we soon can bring her down." (_nourice_, nurse. _limmer_, wretch. _shot-window_, projecting window.) Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife, That hang down by his gair, And he has gi'en the bonny babe A deep wound and a sair. Then Lamkin he rocked, And the fause nourice sang, Till frae ilka bore o' the cradle The red blood out sprang. Then out it spak the lady, As she stood on the stair, "What ails my bairn, nourice, That he's greeting sae sair? "O still my bairn, nourice; O still him wi' the pap!" "He winna still, lady, For this, nor for that." "O still my bairn, nourice; O still him wi' the wand!" "He winna still, lady, For a' his fathers land." "O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi' the bell!" "He winna still, lady, Till ye come down yoursel'." (_gair,_ skirt. _bore_, hole. _greeting_, crying.) O the firsten step she steppit, She steppit on a stane; But the neisten step she steppit, She met him, Lamkin. "O mercy, mercy, Lamkin! Ha'e mercy upon me! Though you've ta'en my young son's life, Ye may let mysel' be."