46 And aye she sought, and aye she flang, Till these four things came to her hand. 47 Then she did to her ain son go, And said, 'My son, ye'll let me know, 48 'Ye will tell to me this thing: What did you wi my wedding-ring?' 49 'Mother dear, I'll tell nae lie: I gave it to a gay ladie. 50 'I would gie a' my ha's and towers, I had this bird within my bowers.' 51 'Keep well, keep well your lands and strands; Ye hae that bird within your hands. 52 'Now, my son, to your bower ye'll go: Comfort your ladie, she's full o woe.' 53 Now when nine months were come and gane, The lady she brought hame a son. 54 It was written on his breast-bane Lord Dingwall was his father's name. 55 He's taen his young son in his arms, And aye he praisd his lovely charms. 56 And he has gien him kisses three, And doubled them ower to his ladie. E Elizabeth Cochrane's Song-Book, p. 146, No 112. 1 Lord Benwall he's a hunting gone; Hey down, etc. He's taken with him all his merry men. Hey, etc. 2 As he was walking late alone, He spyed a lady both brisk and young. 3 He keeped her so long and long, From the evening late till the morning came. 4 All that he gave her at their parting Was a pair of gloves and a gay gold ring. 5 Lord Benwall he's a wooing gone, And he's taken with him all his merry men. 6 As he was walking the Haleigh throw, He spy'd seven ladyes all in a row. 7 He cast a lot among them all; Upon the youngest the lot did fall. 8 He wedded her and brought her home, And by the way she made great moan. 9 'What aileth my dearest and dayly flower? What ails my dear, to make such moan? 10 'Does the steed carry you too high? Or does thy pillow sit awry? 11 'Or does the wind blow in thy glove? Or is thy heart after another love?' 12 'The steed does not carry me too high, Nor does my pillow sit awry. 13 'Nor does the wind blow in my glove, Nor is my heart after another love.' 14 When they were doun to supper set, The weary pain took her by the back. 15 'What ails my dearest and dayly flower? What ails my dearest, to make such moan?' 16 'I am with child, and it's not to thee, And oh and alas, what shall I doe!' 17 'I thought I had got a maid so mild; But I have got a woman big with child. 18 'I thought I had got a dayly flower; I have gotten but a common whore.' * * * * * * * 19 'Rise up, Lord Benwall, go to your hall, And cherrish up your merry men all.' * * * * * * * 20 'As I was walking once late alone, I spy'd a lord, both brisk and young.