Must I leave Edinburgh city, To the high Highland to gae?" Out spak Lizzie's own mother, A good old lady was she, "If ye speak sic a word to my daughter, I'll gar hang ye high." "Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam; Keep weel your daughter frae me; I care as little for your daughter, As ye can care for me." The road grew wetty and dubby; And Lizzie began to think lang; Said, "I wish I had stayed with my mother, And na wi' young Donald had gone." "Yere welcome hame, Sir Donald; Yere welcome hame to me; Yere welcome hame, Sir Donald, And your bonny young lady wi' ye." "Ye call na me Sir Donald, But ca me Donald your son." "Rise up, Lizzie Lindsay, You have lain too long in the day; You might have helped my mother To milk her goats and her kye." Out it spake Lizzie Lindsay, The tear blinket her eye; "The ladies o' Edinburgh city They neither milk goats nor kye." (_dubby_, full of puddles.) THE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD |O Willys large o' limb and lith, And come o' high degree, And he is gone to Earl Richard To serve for meat and fee. Earl Richard had but ae daughter, Fair as a lily flower; And they made up their love-contract Like proper paramour. It fell upon a simmer's night, When the leaves were fair and green, That Willy met his gay lady, Intill the wood alane. "O narrow is my gown, Willy, That wont to be sae wide; And gane is a' my fair colour, That wont to be my pride. "But gin my father should get word What's past between us twa, Before that he should eat or drink, He'd hang you o'er that wa'. (_lith_, joint.) "But ye'll come to my bower, Willy, Just as the sun goes down; And keep me in your arms twa, And latna me fa' down." O when the sun was now gane down, He's doen him till her bower; And there, by the lee light o' the moon, Her window she lookit o'er. Intill a robe o' red scarlet She lap, fearless o' harm; And Willy was large o' lith and limb, And keepit her in his arm. And they've gane to the gude green-wood, And ere the night was deen, She's borne to him a bonny young son, Amang the leaves sae green. Whan night was gane, and day was come, And the sun began to peep, Up and raise the Earl Richard Out o' his drowsy sleep. He's ca'd upon his merry young men, By ane, by twa, and by three, "O what's come o' my daughter dear, That she's na come to me? (_lee_, sad. _deen_, done.) "I dreamt a dreary dream last night, God grant it come to gude! I dreamt I saw my daughter dear, Drown in the saut sea flood. "But gin my daughter be dead or sick, Or yet be stown awa, I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true, I'll hang ye ane and a!" They sought her back, they sought her fore, They sought her up and down;