‘I’se rede ye tak’ Fair Annet, Thomas, And let the brown bride alane, Lest ye should sigh and say Alas! What is this we brought hame?’-- XVI ‘No, I will tak’ my mither’s counsel, And marry me out of hand; And I will tak’ the nut-brown bride; Fair Annet may leave the land.’ XVII Up then rose Fair Annet’s father Twa hours or it were day, And he is gone to Fair Annet, To the bower wherein she lay. XVIII ‘Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,’ he says, ‘Put on your silken sheen; Ye are bidden come to St. Mary’s Kirk, To see a rich weddin’.’... XIX ‘My maids, gae to my dressing-room And dress to me my hair; Where’er ye laid a plait before See ye lay ten times mair. XX ‘My maids gae to my dressing-room And dress to me my smock, The one half is o’ the holland fine, The other o’ needle-work.’ XXI At yae[380] tett[381] o’ her horse’s mane Was tied a silver bell, And yae tift[382] o’ the norland wind It gar’d them a’ to knell. XXII Four and twenty gay good knights Rade by Fair Annet’s side, And four and twenty fair ladies As gin she had been a bride. XXIII And when she came to Mary’s Kirk, She shimmer’d like the sun; The belt that was about her waist Was a’ wi’ pearls bedone[383]. XXIV And when she came to Mary’s Kirk, And sat down in the deas[384], The cleiding[385] that Fair Annet had on Enlighten’d a’ that place. XXV She sat her by the nut-brown bride, And her e’en they were sae clear, Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride When Fair Annet drew near. XXVI He had a rose into his hand, He gave it kisses three, And reaching by the nut-brown bride, Laid it on Annet’s knee. XXVII ‘O wha is this, my father dear, Blinks in Lord Thomas’s e’e?’-- ‘O this Lord Thomas’s first true-love Before he lovèd thee.’ XXVIII Up then spake the nut-brown bride-- She spake wi’ mickle spite: ‘And where gat ye the rose-water That washes thy face so white?’-- XXIX ‘O I did get my rose-water Where ye will ne’er get nane, For I did get that very rose-water Into my mither’s wame[386].’ XXX The bride she drew a long bodkin Frae out her gay head-gear, And strake Fair Annet to the heart, That word spak’ never mair. XXXI ‘O Christ thee save!’ Lord Thomas he said, ‘Methinks thou look’st wondrous wan; Thou was used to look with as fresh a colour As ever the sun shined on.’ XXXII ‘O art thou blind, Lord Thomas?’ she said, ‘Or canst thou not very well see? Or dost thou not see my own heart’s blood Runs trickling down my knee?’ XXXIII