“So, lassie, would you early fill Your pitcher at the running rill, Awake, awake, Fair maid, awake, Your pitcher take, For dawn doth break, And come to-day your true-love will.” Another song of equally ancient origin is sung the evening before the marriage, when the bride takes leave of her friends and relations.[15] “I walked beside the old church wall; My love stood there, but weeping all. I greeted her, and thus she spake: ‘My heart is sore, dear love, alack! I must depart, I must be gone; When to return, God knows alone! When to return?—when the black crow Bears on his wing plumes white as snow. “‘I set two roses in my father’s land— O father, dearest father, give me once more thy hand! I set two roses in my mother’s land— O mother, dearest mother, give me again thy hand! I must depart, I must be gone; When to return, God knows alone! When to return?—when the black crow Bears on his wing plumes white as snow. “‘I set two roses in my brother’s land— O brother, dearest brother, give me again thy hand! I set two roses in my sister’s land— O sister, dearest sister, give me again thy hand! I must away, I must be gone; When to return, God knows alone! When to return?—when the black crow Bears on his wing plumes white as snow. “‘I set again two roses under a bush of yew— O comrades, dearest comrades, I say my last adieu! No roses shall I set more in this my native land— O parents, brother, sister, comrades, give me once more your hand! I must away, I must be gone; When to return, God knows alone! When to return?—when the black crow Bears on his wing plumes white as snow. “‘And when I came to the dark fir-tree,[16] An iron kettle my father gave me; And when I came unto the willow, My mother gave a cap and a pillow. Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part Can tell how parting tears the heart! “‘And when unto the bridge I came, I turned me round and looked back again; I saw no mother nor father more, And I bitterly wept, for my heart was sore. Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part Can tell how parting tears the heart! “‘And when I came before the gate, The bolt was drawn, and I must wait; And when I came to the wooden bench, They said, “She’s but a peevish wench!” Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part Can tell how parting tears the heart! “‘And when I came to the strangers’ hearth, They whispered, “She is little worth;” And when I came before the bed, I sighed, “Would I were yet a maid!” Woe’s me! ’tis only those who part Can tell how parting tears the heart!