3 One night as she lay on her bed, Just thinking to get rest, Up it came her old father, Just like a wandering ghaist. 4 ‘Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says, ‘Rise up, put on your gown; Rise up, rise up, Lady Diamond,’ he says, ‘For I fear ye go too roun.’ 5 ‘Too roun I go, ye blame me no, Ye cause me not to shame; For better love I that bonny boy Than all your well-bred men.’ 6 The king’s calld up his wall-wight men, That he paid meat and fee: ‘Bring here to me that bonny boy, And we’ll smore him right quietlie.’ 7 Up hae they taken that bonny boy, Put him between twa feather-beds; Naething was dane, _nae_thing was said, Till that bonny boy was dead. 8 The king’s taen out a broad, broad sword, And streakd it on a strow, And thro and thro that bonny boy’s heart He’s gart cauld iron go. 9 Out he has taen his poor bloody heart, Set it on a tasse of gold, And set it before Lady Diamond’s face, Said, Fair lady, behold! 10 Up she has taen this poor bloody heart, And holden it in her hand: ‘Better loved I that bonny, bonny boy Than all my father’s land.’ 11 Up she has taen his poor bloody heart And laid it at her head; The tears away frae her eyes did fly, And ere midnight she was dead. E Joseph Robertson, “Adversaria,” p. 66; noted down from a female servant, July 15, 1829. 1 It was a king, and a verra greit king, An a king o muckle fame, An he had a luvelie dauchter fair, An Dysie was her name. 2 She fell in love wi the kitchie-boy, An a verra bonnie boy was he, An word has gane till her father dear, An an angry man was he. 3 ‘Is it the laird? or is it the lord? Or a man o high degree? Or is it to Robin, the kitchie-boy? O Dysie mak nae lee.’ 4 ‘It’s nae the laird, nor is it the lord, Nor a man o high degree, But it’s to Robin, the kitchie-boy; What occasion hae I to lee?’ 5 ‘If it be to Robin, the kitchie-boy, As I trust weel it be, The morn, afore ye eat meal or drink, Ye’ll see him hanged hie.’ 6 They have taen Robin out, His hair was like threads o gold; That verra day afore it was night, Death made young Dysie cold. * * * * * =B.= _Written without division into stanzas or verses._ 3^2. to bed. 8^4. didde lea. =C.= “Mary Johnston, our dairymaid at Hoddam Castle, used to sing this. It had a very pretty air, and some more verses which I have now forgot.” Sharpe’s Ballad-Book, 1880, p. 128. =D.= _A little scotticized by Buchan in printing, and still more by Dixon._ 9^2. tasse _is_ tarse _in my transcript_; _probably miscopied_. FOOTNOTES: