24 Whan bells were rung, and mess was sung, An a' man boun to bed, Sweet Willie and the nut-brown bride In a chamber were laid. 25 But up und wakend him Sweet Willie Out of his dreary dream: 'I dreamed a dream this night, God read a' dream to guid! 26 'That Fair Annies bowr was full of gentlemen, An herself was dead; But I will on to Fair Annie, An si't if it be guid.' 27 Seven lang mile or he came near, He heard a dolefull chear, Her father and her seven brithern, Walking at her bier; The half of it guid red goud, The other silver clear. 28 'Ye deal at my love's leak The white bread an the wine; But on the morn at this time Ye's dee the like at mine.' 29 The ane was buried at Mary kirk, The ither at Mary quire; Out of the ane grew a birk, Out of the ither a briar. 30 An aye the langer that they grew, They came the ither near, An by that ye might a well kent They were twa lovers dear. H Gibb MS., p. 64. 1 Fair Annie and Sweet Willie, As they talked on yon hill, Though they had talked a lang summer day, They wad na hae talked their fill. 2 'If you would be a good woman, Annie, An low leave a' your pride, In spite of a' my friends, Annie, I wad mak you my bride.' 3 'Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie, An thin, thin lie mine; An little wad a' your friends think O sic a kin as mine. 4 'Thick, thick lie your lands, Willie, Down by the coving-tree; An little wad a' your friends think O sic a bride as me. 5 'O Fair Annie, O Fair Annie, This nicht ye've said me no; But lang or ever this day month I'll make your heart as sore.' 6 It's Willie he went home that night, An a sick man lay he down; An ben came Willie's auld mither, An for nae gude she came. * * * * * * * 7 'It's if ye marry Fair Annie, My malison ye's hae; But if ye marry the nut-brown may, My blessin an ye's hae.' 8 'Mother, for your malison, An mother, for your wis, It's I will marry the nut-brown may, . . . . . . . 9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . It's up an spak his sister, . . . . . . . 10 'The owsen may hang in the pleugh, The kye drown in the myre, An he'll hae naething but a dirty drab To sit doun by the fire.' * * * * * * * 11 'Where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will rin on to Annie's bower, An haste him back again?'