6 ‘When cockle-shells grow silver bells, And gold it grows on every tree, When frost and snaw turns fiery balls, Then, love, I’ll come down and dine wi thee.’ 7 If I had known what I know now, That love it was sae ill to win, I should neer hae wet my cherry cheek For onie man or woman’s son. 8 When my father he cam to know That my first luve had sae slighted me, He sent four score of his soldiers bright To guard me home to my own countrie. 9 Slowly, slowly rose I up, And slowly, slowly I came down, And when he saw me sit in my coach, He made his drums and trumpets sound. 10 It’s fare ye weel, my pretty palace! And fare ye weel, my children three! And I hope your father will get mair grace, And love you better than he’s done to me. 11 When we came near to bonnie Edinburgh toun, My father cam for to meet me; He made his drums and trumpets sound, But they were no comfort at all to me. 12 ‘It’s hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your weeping pray let be; For a bill of divorcement I’ll send to him, And a better husband I’ll you supply.’ 13 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your folly pray now let be; For there’s neer a lord shall enter my bower, Since my first love has so slighted me.’ * * * * * K Motherwell’s MS., p. 302; from Jean Nicol. 1 O waly, waly up the bank! And waly, waly doun the brae! And waly by yon river-side, Where me and my love were wont to gae! 2 A gentleman, a friend of mine, Came to the toun me for to see, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 3 ‘Come doun the stair, Jamie Douglas, Come doun the stair and drink wine wi me; For a chair of gold I will set thee in, And not one farthing it will cost thee.’ 4 ‘When cockle-shells grow siller bells, And mussels grow on ilka tree, When frost and snaw turns out fire-bombs, Then I’ll come doun and drink wine wi thee.’ 5 But when her father heard of this, O but an angry man was he! And he sent four score of his ain regiment To bring her hame to her ain countrie. 6 O when she was set in her coach and six, And the saut tear was in her ee, Saying, Fare you weel, my bonnie palace! And fare ye weel, my children three! 7 O when I came into Edinburgh toun, My loving father for to see, The trumpets were sounding on every side, But they were not music at all for me. 8 ‘O hold your tongue, my daughter dear, And of your folly I pray let be; For a bill of divorcement I’ll send him, And a better lord I’ll provide for thee.’ 9 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, And of your folly I pray let be; For if I had stayed in fair Orange Green, I might have been his gay ladye.’ * * * * *