Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 207. "From the recital of a peasant-woman of Galloway, upwards of ninety years of age." 1 We were sisters, we were seven, We were the fairest under heaven. 2 And it was a' our seven years wark To sew our father's seven sarks. 3 And whan our seven years wark was done, We laid it out upo the green. 4 We coost the lotties us amang, Wha wad to the greenwood gang, 5 To pu the lily but and the rose, To strew witha' our sisters' bowers. 6 ... I was youngest, ... my weer was hardest. 7 And to the greenwood I bud gae, . . . . . . . 8 There I met a handsome childe, . . . . . . . 9 High-coled stockings and laigh-coled shoon, He bore him like a king's son. 10 An was I weel, or was I wae, He keepit me a' the simmer day. 11 An though I for my hame-gaun sich[t], He keepit me a' the simmer night. 12 He gae to me a gay gold ring, And bade me keep it aboon a' thing. 13 He gae to me a cuttie knife, And bade me keep it as my life: 14 Three lauchters o his yellow hair, For fear we wad neer meet mair. * * * * * * * 15 Next there came shippes three, To carry a' my bridal fee. 16 Gowd were the beaks, the sails were silk, Wrought wi maids' hands like milk. 17 They came toom and light to me, But heavie went they waie frae me. 18 They were fu o baken bread, They were fu of wine sae red. 19 My dowry went a' by the sea, But I gaed by the grenewode tree. 20 An I sighed and made great mane, As thro the grenewode we rade our lane. 21 An I ay siched an wiped my ee, That eer the grenewode I did see. 22 'Is there water in your glove, Or win into your shoe? O[r] am I oer low a foot-page To rin by you, ladie?' 23 'O there's nae water in my glove, Nor win into my shoe; But I am maning for my mither Wha's far awa frae me.' * * * * * * * 24 'Gin ye be a maiden fair, Meikle gude ye will get there. 25 'If ye be a maiden but, Meikle sorrow will ye get. 26 'For seven king's daughters he hath wedded, But never wi ane o them has bedded. 27 'He cuts the breasts frae their breast-bane, An sends them back unto their dame. 28 'He sets their backs unto the saddle, An sends them back unto their father. 29 'But be ye maiden or be ye nane, To the gowden chair ye draw right soon. 30 'But be ye leman or be ye maiden, Sit nae down till ye be bidden.' 31 Was she maiden or was she nane, To the gowden chair she drew right soon. 32 Was she leman or was she maiden, She sat down ere she was bidden.