14 'But when ye come to Oxenford, Bide neither to chap nor ca, But set your bent bow to your breast, And lightly loup the wa.' 15 Where he found the grass green growing, He slackt his shoes and ran, And where he found the brigs broken, He bent his bow and swam. 16 And when he came to Oxenford, Did neither chap nor ca, But set his bent bow to his breast, And lightly leapt the wa. 17 'What news, what news, my little wee boy? What news hae ye to me? How are my sons in Billsbury, Since they went far frae me?' 18 'Your sons are well, and learning well, But at a higher school, And ye'll never see your sons again, On the holy days o Yule.' 19 'Wi sorrow now gae make my bed, Wi care and caution lay me down; That man on earth shall neer be born Shall see me mair gang on the groun. 20 'Take twenty pounds in your pocket, And ten and ten to tell them wi, And gin ye getna hynde Henry, Bring ye gay Gilbert hame to me.' 21 Out it speaks old Oxenford, A sorry, sorry man, was he: 'Your strange wish does me surprise, They are baith there alike to me. 22 'Wi sorrow now I'll saddle my horse, And I will gar my bridle ring, And I shall be at Billsbury Before the small birds sweetly sing.' 23 Then sweetly sang the nightingale, As she sat on the wand, But sair, sair, mournd Oxenford, As he gaed in the strand. 24 When he came to Billsbury, He rade it round about, And at a little shott-window His sons were looking out. 25 'O lye ye there, my sons,' he said, 'For oxen, or for kye? Or is it for a little o deep dear love, Sae sair bound as ye lye?' 26 'We lye not here, father,' they said, 'For oxen, nor for kye; It's all for a little o deep dear love, Sae sair bound as we lye. 27 'O borrow's, borrow's, father,' they said, 'For the love we bear to thee!' 'O never fear, my pretty sons, Well borrowed ye shall be.' 28 Then he's gane to the wicked mayor, And hailed him courteouslie: 'Good day, good day, O Billsbury, God make you safe and free!' 'Come sit you down, brave Oxenford, What are your wills with me?' 29 'Will ye gie me my sons again, For gold or yet for fee? Will ye gie me my sons again, For's sake that died on tree?' 30 'I winna gie you your sons again, For gold nor yet for fee; But if ye'll stay a little while, Ye'se see them hanged hie.' 31 Ben it came the mayor's daughters, Wi kirtle, coat alone; Their eyes did sparkle like the gold, As they tript on the stone. 32 'Will ye gie us our loves, father, For gold or yet for fee? Or will ye take our own sweet life, And let our true-loves be?'