And they lay still and sleepit sound Until the day began to daw; And kindly she to him did say, "It is time, true love, you were awa'."

But he lay still and sleepit sound, Albeit the sun began to sheen; She looked between her and the wa', And dull and drowsie were his een.

Then in and came her father dear; Said, "Let a' your mourning be; I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay, And I'll come back and comfort thee."

"Comfort weel your seven sons, For comforted I will never be: I trow 'twas neither knave nor loon Was in the bower last night wi' me."

The clinking bell gaed through the town, And carried the dead corpse to the clay.

Young Saunders stood at may Margaret's window, I wot, an hour before the day.

"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says, "Or are you waking presentlie?

Give me my faith and troth again, True love, as I gied them to thee."

"Your faith and troth ye sall never get, Nor our true love sall never twin, Until ye come within my bower, And kiss me cheek and chin."

"My mouth it is full cold, Margaret, It has the smell now of the ground; And if I may kiss thy comely mouth, Thy days will soon be at an end.

"O, c.o.c.ks are crowing a merry midnight; I wot the wild fowls are boding day.

Give me my faith and troth again, And let me fare me on my way."

"Thy faith and troth thou sall na get, And our true love sall never twin, Until ye tell wha' comes o' women, Wot ye, who die in strong traivelling?"

"Their beds are made in the heavens high, Down at the foot of our good Lord's knee, Weel set about wi' gillyflowers; I wot, sweet company for to see.

"O, c.o.c.ks are crowing a merry midnight; I wot the wild fowls are boding day; The psalms of heaven will soon be sung, And I, ere now, will be missed away."

Then she has taken a crissom wand, And she has stroken her troth thereon; She has given it him out at the shot-window, Wi' mony a sad sigh and heavy groan.

"I thank ye, Marg'ret; I thank ye, Marg'ret; Ever I thank ye heartilie; But gin I were living, as I am dead, I'd keep my faith and troth with thee."

It's hosen and shoon, and gown alone, She climbed the wall, and followed him, Until she came to the green forest, And there she lost the sight o' him.

"Is there ony room at your head, Saunders?

Is there ony room at your feet?

Is there ony room at your side, Saunders?

Where fain, fain, I wad sleep?"

"There's nae room at my head, Marg'ret, There's nae room at my feet; My bed it is fu' lowly now, Amang the hungry worms I sleep.

"Cauld mould is my covering now, But and my winding-sheet; The dew it fall nae sooner down Then my resting place is weet."

Then up and crew the red, red c.o.c.k, Then up and crew the gray; "'Tis time, 'tis time, my dear Marg'ret, That you were going away.

"And fair Marg'ret, and rare Marg'ret, And Marg'ret, o' veritie, Gin e'er ye love another man, Ne'er love him as ye did me."

THE WIFE OF USHER'S WELL

There lived a wife at Usher's Well, And a wealthy wife was she; She had three stout and stalwart sons, And sent them o'er the sea.

They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely ane, When word cam' to the carline wife That her three sons were gane.

They hadna been a week from her, A week but barely three, When word cam' to the carline wife That her sons she'd never see.

"I wish the wind may never cease, Nor fish be in the flood, Till my three sons come hame to me, In earthly flesh and blood!"

It fell about the Martinmas, When nights are lang and mirk, The carline wife's three sons cam' hame, And their hats were o' the birk.

If neither grew in shye nor ditch Nor yet in any small shugh; But at the gates o' Paradise That birk grew fair eneugh.

"Blow up the fire, my maidens!

Bring water from the well!

For a' my house shall feast this night, Since my three sons are well."

And she has made to them a bed, She's made it large and wide; And she's ta'en her mantle round about, Sat down at the bedside.

Up then crew the red, red c.o.c.k, And up and crew the gray; The eldest to the youngest said, "'Tis time we were away.

"The c.o.c.k doth craw, the day doth daw, The channerin' worm doth chide; Gin we be miss'd out o' our place, A sair pain we maun bide."

"Lie still, lie still but a little wee while, Lie still but if we may; Gin my mother should miss us when she wakes, She'll go mad ere it be the day.

"Our mother has nae mair but us; See where she leans asleep; The mantle that was on herself, She has happ'd it round our feet."

O it's they have ta'en up their mother's mantle, And they've hung it on a pin; "O lang may ye hing, my mother's mantle, Ere ye hap us again!

"Fare ye weel, my mother dear!

Fareweel to barn and byre!

And fare ye weel, the bonny la.s.s That kindles my mother's fire!"

A LYKE-WAKE DIRGE

This ae nighte, this ae nighte, --_Every nighte and alle,_ Fire and sleet and candle-lighte, _And Christe receive thy saule._

When thou from hence away art pa.s.sed, --_Every nighte and alle,_ To Whinny-muir thou com'st at last; _And Christe receive thy saule._

If ever thou gavest hosen and shoon, --_Every nighte and alle,_ Sit thee down and put them on; _And Christe receive thy saule._

If hosen and shoon thou ne'er gav'st nane, --_Every nighte and alle,_ The whins sall p.r.i.c.k thee to the bare bane; _And Christe receive thy saule._

From Whinny-muir when thou mayst pa.s.s, --_Every nighte and alle,_ To Brig o' Dread thou com'st at last; _And Christe receive thy saule._

From Brig o' Dread when thou may'st pa.s.s, --_Every nighte and alle,_ To Purgatory Fire thou com'st at last; _And Christe receive thy saule._

If ever thou gavest meat or drink, --_Every nighte and alle,_ The fire sall never make thee shrink; _And Christe receive thy saule._

If meat or drink thou never gav'st nane, --_Every nighte and alle,_ The fire will burn thee to the bare bane; _And Christe receive thy saule._

This ae nighte, this ae nighte, --_Every nighte and alle,_ Fire and sleet and candle-lighte, _And Christe receive thy saule._