4 'What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son? What's become of your warden, Lairde Rowlande, my son?' 'He died in the muirlands; mither, mak my bed soon, For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.' 5 'What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son? What's become of your stag-hounds, Lairde Rowlande, my son?' 'They swelled and they died; mither, mak my bed soon, For I'm weary wi hunting, and faine would lie down.' F Johnson's Museum, No 327, p. 337. Communicated by Burns. 1 'O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son? O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?' 'I hae been wi my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon, For I'm weary wi the hunting, and fain wad lie down.' 2 'What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son? What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?' 'I hae got deadly poison; mother, make my bed soon, For life is a burden that soon I'll lay down.' * * * * * * * G Illustrations of Northern Antiquities, p. 319. Originally from a clergyman's daughter, in Suffolk. 1 'Where have you been today, Billy, my son? Where have you been today, my only man?' 'I've been a wooing; mother, make my bed soon, For I'm sick at heart, and fain would lay down.' 2 'What have you ate today, Billy, my son? What have you ate today, my only man?' 'I've ate eel-pie; mother, make my bed soon, For I'm sick at heart, and shall die before noon.' H Taken down by me, February, 1881, from the recitation of Ellen Healy, as repeated to her by a young girl at "Lackabairn," Kerry, Ireland, about 1868. 1 'Where was you all day, my own pretty boy? Where was you all day, my comfort and joy?' 'I was fishing and fowling; mother, make my bed soon, There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.' 2 'What did you have for your breakfast, my own pretty boy? What did you have for your breakfast, my comfort and joy?' 'A cup of strong poison; mother, make my bed soon, There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.' 3 'I fear you are poisoned, my own pretty boy, I fear you are poisoned, my comfort and joy!' 'O yes, I am poisoned; mother, make my bed soon, There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.' 4 'What will you leave to your father, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your father, my comfort and joy?' 'I'll leave him my house and my property; mother, make my bed soon, There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.' 5 'What will you leave to your mother, my own pretty boy? What will you leave to your mother, my comfort and joy?' 'I'll leave her my coach and four horses; mother, make my bed soon, There 's a pain in my heart, and I mean to lie down.'