22 Annie made her bed a little forbye, To hear what they might say; 'And ever alas!' Fair Annie cried, 'That I should see this day! 23 'Gin my seven sons were seven young rats, Running on the castle wa, And I were a grey cat mysell, I soon would worry them a'. 24 'Gin my seven sons were seven young hares, Running oer yon lilly lee, And I were a grew hound mysell, Soon worried they a' should be.' 25 And wae and sad Fair Annie sat, And drearie was her sang, And ever, as she sobbd and grat, 'Wae to the man that did the wrang!' 26 'My gown is on,' said the new-come bride, 'My shoes are on my feet, And I will to Fair Annie's chamber, And see what gars her greet. 27 'What ails ye, what ails ye, Fair Annie, That ye make sic a moan? Has your wine barrels cast the girds, Or is your white bread gone? 28 'O wha was't was your father, Annie, Or wha was't was your mother? And had ye ony sister, Annie, Or had ye ony brother?' 29 'The Earl of Wemyss was my father, The Countess of Wemyss my mother; And a' the folk about the house To me were sister and brother.' 30 'If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, I wot sae was he mine; And it shall not be for lack o gowd That ye your love sall tyne. 31 'For I have seven ships o mine ain, A' loaded to the brim, And I will gie them a' to thee, Wi four to thine eldest son: But thanks to a' the powers in heaven That I gae maiden hame!' B Jamieson's Popular Ballads, II, 376, from the recitation of Mrs Arrot, of Aberbrothick. 1 There livd a lord on yon sea-side, And he thought on a wile, How he would go over the saut sea A lady to beguile. 2 'O learn to mak your bed, Helen, And learn to ly your lane, For I'm gaun over the saut seas A bright bride to bring hame.' 3 'How can I mak my bed,' she says, 'Unless I mak it wide, Whan I have seven o your sons To lie down by my side? 4 'And the first o your seven sons, He rides a milk-white steed; The second o your seven sons He wears a milk-white weed. 5 'The third ane o your seven sons, He draws baith ale and wine; The fourth ane o your seven sons, He serves you when you dine. 6 'The fifth ane o your seven sons, He can baith read and write; And the sixth ane o your seven sons, He is a' your heart's delight. 7 'And the youngest o your seven sons, He sleeps on my breast-bane; Whan him and I ly down at night, For him rest get I nane.' 8 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, And brew my bridal ale? And wha will welcome my gae lady, That I bring oer the dale?