And I were a greyhound mysel', Soon worried they a' should be."-- And wae and sad fair Annie sat, And dreary was her sang; And ever, as she sobb'd and grat, "Wae to the man that did the wrang!"-- "My gown is on," said the new-come bride, "My shoes are on my feet, And I will to fair Annies chamber, And see what gars her greet.---- (_forbye_, on one side. _grat_, wept. _gars_, makes.) "What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, That ye make sic a moan? Has your wine barrels cast the girds, Or is your white bread gone? "O wha was't was your father, Annie, Or wha was't was your mother? And had you ony sister, Annie, Or had you ony brother?"-- "The Earl of Wemyss was my father, The Countess of Wemyss my mother; And a ' the folk about the house, To me were sister and brother."-- "If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; And it shall not be for lack o' gowd, That ye your love sall tyne. "For I have seven ships o' mine ain, A' loaded to the brim; And I will gie them a' to thee, Wi' four to thine eldest son. But thanks to a the powers in heaven That I gae maiden hame!" (_tyne_, lose.) [Illustration: 0093] THE GAY GOSS-HAWK [Illustration: 9094] |O weel's me, my gay goss-hawk, That he can speak and flee; Hell carry a letter to my love, Bring back another to me." "O how can I your true love ken, Or how can I her know? When frae her mouth I ne er heard couth, Nor wi' my eyes her saw." "O weel sail ye my true love ken, As soon as ye her see; For, of a the flowers of fair England, The fairest flower is she. (_heard, couth_, could hear.) "And even at my love's bower-door There grows a bowing birk; And sit ye doun and sing thereon As she gangs to the kirk. "And four-and-twenty ladies fair Will wash and to the kirk, But well shall ye my true-love ken, For she wears goud on her skirt. "And four-and-twenty gay ladies Will to the mass repair; But weel shall ye my true love ken, For she wears goud on her hair." And even at the lady's bower-door There grows a bowing birk; And [he] sat down and sang thereon As she gaed to the kirk. "O eat and drink, my Maries a', The wine flows you among, Till I gang to my shot-window, And hear yon bonny bird's song. "Sing on, sing on, my bonny bird, The song ye sang [yestreen]; For I ken, by your sweet singing, Ye're frae my true love sen." (_birk,_ birch. _shot-windoiv_, projecting window. _sen,_ sent.) O first he sang a merry song, And then he sang a grave; And then he pick'd his feathers gray, To her the letter gave. "Ha, there's a letter frae your love, He says he sent you three; He canna wait your love langer, But for your sake he'll die. "He bids you write a letter to him;