Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed, Nae roof henceforth shall shelter me. St. Anton's Well shall be my drink, Sin' my gude Lord's forsaken me. It's no' the frost, that freezes fell, Nor driftin' snaw's inclemencie, It's no' sic cauld, that gars me greet, But my love's heart's grown cauld to me. When I lay sick, an' very sick, When I lay sick, an' like to die, A gentleman o' gude account Cam' frae the west to visit me; But Blackwood whispered in my Lord's ear A fause word, baith o' him an' me. "Gae, little Page, an' tell your Lord If he'll come doun an' dine wi' me, I'll set him on a chair o' gowd An' serve him on my bended knee." "When cockle shells turn siller bells, When wine draps red frae ilka tree, When frost and snaw will warm us a', Then I'll come doun an' dine wi' thee!" If I had kent, as I ken now That love it was sae ill to win, I wad ne'er hae wet my cherry cheek For ony man, or mother's son. When my father gat word o' this, I wat, an angry man was he. He sent fourscore o' his Archers bauld To bring me safe to his ain countrie. "Fare ye well then, Jamie Douglas, I need care as little as ye care for me. The Earl o' Mar is my father dear, An' I sune will see my ain countrie. "Ye thocht that I was like yoursel', Loving ilk ane I did see; But here I swear, by the heavens clear, I never lo'ed a man but thee." Slowly, slowly rose he up An' slowly, slowly cam' he doun, An' when he saw her on horseback set, He garred his drums and trumpets sound. When I upon my horse was set, My tenants a' were wi' me ta'en, They sat them doun upon their knees An' begged me to come back again. "Oh fare ye weel, my bonnie Palace, An' fare ye weel, my children three. God grant your father may get mair grace, An' lo'e ye better than he's lo'ed me! "An' wae be to you, ye fause Blackwood, Aye, an' an ill death may ye die, Ye were the first, and the foremost man, That parted my ain gude Lord and me." As we cam' on, through Edinbreuch toun, My gude father, he welcomed me, He caused his minstrels loud to sound, It was nae music at a' to me; Nae mirth, nor music sounds in my ear, Sin' my ain Lord's forsaken me. "Now haud y'r tongue, my daughter dear, An' o' your weepin' let me be; A bill o' divorce I'll gar write for him, An' I'll get as gude a Lord to thee." "Oh, haud your tongue, my father dear, An' o' your talking let me be; I wadna gi'e a look o' my gude Lord's face For a' the Lords in the north countrie. "The lintie is a bonnie bird, An' aften flies far frae its nest, Sae a' the warld may plainly see He's far awa' that I lo'e best."