8 'We lie not here for owsen, dear father, Nor yet lie here for kye, But it's for a little o dear bought love Sae sair bound as we lie.' 9 O he's gane to the mighty mayor, And he spoke powerfully: 'Will ye grant me my twa sons' lives, Either for gold or fee? Or will ye be sae gude a man As grant them baith to me?' 10 'I'll no grant ye yere twa sons' lives, Neither for gold or fee, Nor will I be sae gude a man As gie them back to thee; Before the morn at twelve o'clock Ye'll see them hangit hie.' 11 Up an spak his twa daughters, An they spak powrfully: 'Will ye grant us our twa loves' lives, Either for gold or fee? Or will ye be sae gude a man As grant them baith to me.' 12 'I'll no grant ye yere twa loves' lives, Neither for gold or fee, Nor will I be sae gude a man As grant their lives to thee; Before the morn at twelve o'clock Ye'll see them hangit hie.' 13 O he's taen out these proper youths, And hangd them on a tree, And he's bidden the clerk o Owsenford Gang hame to his ladie. 14 His lady sits on yon castle-wa, Beholding dale an doun, An there she saw her ain gude lord Come walkin to the toun. 15 'Ye're welcome, welcome, my ain gude lord, Ye're welcome hame to me; But where away are my twa sons? Ye should hae brought them wi ye.' 16 'It's I've putten them to a deeper lair, An to a higher schule; Yere ain twa sons ill no be here Till the hallow days o Yule.' 17 'O sorrow, sorrow come mak my bed, An dool come lay me doon! For I'll neither eat nor drink, Nor set a fit on ground.' B Noted down from a female servant by Dr Joseph Robertson, July 15, 1829; "Adversaria," p. 67. * * * * * * * 1 'De weel, de weel, my twa young sons, An learn weel at the squeel; Tak no up wi young women-kin, An learn to act the feel.' 2 But they had na been in Blomsbury A twalmon and a day, Till the twa pretty clerks o Owsenfoord Wi the mayr's dauchters did lay. 3 Word has gaen till the auld base mayr, As he sat at his wine, That the twa pretty clerks o Owsenford Wi his daughters had lien. 4 Then out bespak the auld base mayr, An an angry man was he: 'Tomorrow, before I eat meat or drink, I'll see them hanged hie.' 5 But word has gaen to Owsenfoord . . . . . . . Before the letter was read, She let the tears doun fa. * * * * * * * 6 'Your sons are weel, an verra weel, An learnin at the squeel; But I fear ye winna see your sons At the holy days o Yeel.'