35 Then he stript her o the robes o grey, Donned her in the robes o green, And when she came to her lord’s ha They took her to be some queen. O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! And aye sae sweet as the bonny lassie sang, That ever she milked the ewes. * * * * * N Kinloch MSS, I, 145; from Mary Barr. 1 O there war a troop o merry gentlemen Cam riding oure the knowes, And they hear the voice o a bonny lass, In the buchts, milking the yowes. 2 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may! O saved may ye be! My steed he has riden wrang, Fain wad I ken the way.’ 3 She has tane the steed by the bridle-reins, Has led him till the way, And he has tane out three gowd rings, Gien them to that bonnie may. 4 And he has tane her by the milk-white hand And by the gerss-green sleeve, And he laid her doun on the side o yon hill, At her daddie speird na leave. 5 Now she has hame to her father gane, Her father did her blame: ‘O whare hae ye been, my ae dochter? For ye hae na been your lane.’ 6 ‘O the nicht is mirk, and very, very wet, Ye may gang to the door and see; O there’s nabody been wi me, father, There’s nabody been wi me. 7 ‘But there cam a tod to your bucht, father, The like o him I neer saw; Afore you’d gien him the lamb that he took, Ye’d rather hae gien them a’. 8 ‘O wae be to my father’s sheep-hird, An ill death may he dee! For bigging the bucht sae nar the road, Let the Lochinvar to me!’ 9 She’s tane her pig and her cog in her hand, And she’s gane to milk the kye; But ere she was aware, the Laird o Lochinvar Cam riding in the way. 10 ‘O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may! I wish ye may be sound; O save thee, O save thee, my bonnie may! What maks thy belly sae round?’ 11 O she has turnd hersel round about, And she within her thoucht shame: ‘O it’s nabody’s wills wi me, kind sir, For I hae a gudeman o my ain.’ 12 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, my bonnie may, Weel do I ken ye lee! For dinna ye mind o the three gowd rings I gied ye o the new moneye?’ 13 ‘O weel do I mind thee, kind sir, O weel do I mind thee; For ae whan ye spak ye lifted up your hat, And ye had a bonnie twinklin ee.’ 14 ‘O ye need na toil yoursel, my dear, Neither to card nor to spin; For there’s ten pieces I gie unto thee; Keep them for your lying in.’ 15 Now she has hame to her father gane, As fast as she could hie; And she was na weel crownd wi joy Till her auld son gat she.