1 It was at dinner as they sat, And whan they drank the wine, How happy war the laird and lady Of bonnie Wariston! 2 The lady spak but ae word, The matter to conclude; The laird strak her on the mouth, Till she spat out o blude. 3 She did not know the way Her mind to satisfy, Till evil cam into [her] head All by the Enemy. * * * * * * 4 ‘At evening when ye sit, And whan ye drink the wine, See that ye fill the glass weill up To the laird o Wariston.’ 5 So at table whan they sat, And whan they drank the wine, She made the glass aft gae round To the laird o Wariston. 6 The nurice she knet the knot, And O she knet it sicker! The lady did gie it a twig, Till it began to wicker. 7 But word’s gane doun to Leith, And up to Embro toun, That the lady she has slain the laird, The laird o Waristoun. 8 Word has gane to her father, the grit Dunipace, And an angry man was he; Cries, Gar mak a barrel o pikes, And row her down some lea! 9 She said, Wae be to ye, Wariston, I wish ye may sink for sin! For I have been your wife These nine years, running ten; And I never loved ye sae well As now whan ye’re lying slain. 10 ‘But tak aff this gowd brocade, And let my petticoat stay, And tie a handkerchief round my face, That the people may not see.’ * * * * * C Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 56. 1 ‘My mother was an ill woman, In fifteen years she married me; I hadna wit to guide a man, Alas! ill counsel guided me. 2 ‘O Warriston, O Warriston, I wish that ye may sink for sin! I was but bare fifteen years auld, Whan first I enterd your yates within. 3 ‘I hadna been a month married, Till my gude lord went to the sea; I bare a bairn ere he came hame, And set it on the nourice knee. 4 ‘But it fell ance upon a day, That my gude lord returnd from sea; Then I did dress in the best array, As blythe as ony bird on tree. 5 ‘I took my young son in my arms, Likewise my nourice me forebye, And I went down to yon shore-side, My gude lord’s vessel I might spy. 6 ‘My lord he stood upon the deck, I wyte he haild me courteouslie: Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay, Whae’s aught that bairn on your knee?’ 7 She turnd her right and round about, Says, ‘Why take ye sic dreads o me? Alas! I was too young married, To love another man but thee.’ 8 ‘Now hold your tongue, my lady gay, Nae mair falsehoods ye’ll tell to me; This bonny bairn is not mine, You’ve loved another while I was on sea.’ 9 In discontent then hame she went, And aye the tear did blin her ee; Says, Of this wretch I’ll be revenged For these harsh words he’s said to me.