1 'Learn to mak your bed, honey, And learn to lye your lane, For I'm gaun owre the salt seas, A fair lady to bring hame. 2 'And with her I'll get gold and gear, With thee I neer got nane; I took you as a waaf woman, I leave you as the same.' 3 'What aileth thee at me, my lord, What aileth thee at me, When seven bonnie sons I have born, All of your fair bodie? 4 'The eldest of your seven sons, He can both read and write; The second of your sons, my lord, Can do it more perfyte. 5 'The third one of your sons, my lord, He waters your milk-white steed; The fourth one of your sons, my lord, With red gold shines his weed. 6 'The fifth one of your sons, my lord, He serves you when you dine; The sixth one now you do behold, How he walks out and in. 7 'The seventh one of your sons, my lord, Sucks hard at my breast-bane; When a' the house they are at rest, For him I can get nane. 8 'And if you leave me thus forlorn, A wainless wife I'll be, For anybody's gold or gear That is beyond the sea.' 9 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or wha will brew my ale? Or wha will cook my kitchen neat, Or give my men their meal?' 10 'For love I'll bake your bridal bread, To brew your ale I'm fain, To cook your kitchen, as I have done, Till you return again.' 11 'O wha will bake my bridal bread, Or wha will brew my ale? Or wha will welcome my braw bride, That I bring owre the dale?' 12 'For love I'll bake your bridal bread, For love I'll brew your ale, And I will welcome your braw bride That you bring owre the dale.' 13 Her mind she keeped, but sair she weepd The time that he was gane . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 14 'Go up, go up, my eldest son, Go to the upmost ha, And see if you see your father coming, With your mother-to-be-in-law.' 15 'Put on, put on, O mother dear, Put on your gouns so braw, For yonder is my father coming, With my mother-to-be-in-law.' 16 She's taen the wheat-bread in one hand, The red wines, which plenty were, And she's gane to the outmost gate, And bid them welcome there. 17 'You're welcome here, my brother dear, Ye're welcome, brother John; Ye're welcome a' my brethern dear, That has this journey gone.' 18 'I thank you, sister Annie,' he says, 'And I thank you heartilie, And as you've welcomed home myself, You'll welcome my fair ladye.' 19 'If I had roses to my feet, And ribbons to my gown, And as leal a maid as your braw bride, I would speak without a frown.'