| |
| “RISE 1 up, rise up, now, Lord Douglas,” she says, | |
| “And put on your armour so bright, | |
| Let it never be said that a daughter of thine | |
| Was married to a lord under night. | |
| |
| “Rise up, rise up, my seven bold sons, | 5 |
| And put on your armour so bright, | |
| And take better care of your youngest sister. | |
| For your eldest’s awa 2 the last night.” | |
| |
| He’s mounted her on a milk-white steed, | |
| And himself on a dapple grey, | 10 |
| With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, | |
| And lightly they rode away. | |
| |
| Lord William lookit oer his left shoulder, | |
| To see what he could see, | |
| And there he spy’d her seven brethren bold, | 15 |
| Come riding over the lee. | |
| |
| “Light down, light down, Lady Margret,” he said, | |
| “And hold my steed in your hand, | |
| Until that against your seven brethren bold, | |
| And your father I mak a stand.” | 20 |
| |
| She held his steed in her milk-white hand, | |
| And never shed one tear, | |
| Until that she saw her seven brethren fa, | |
| And her father hard fighting, who lovd her so dear. | |
| |
| “O hold your hand, Lord William!” she said, | 25 |
| “For your strokes they are wondrous sair; | |
| True lovers I can get many a ane, | |
| But a father I can never get mair.” | |
| |
| O she’s taen out her handkerchief, | |
| It was o the holland sae fine, | 30 |
| And aye she dighted 3 her father’s bloody wounds, | |
| That were redder than the wine. | |
| |
| “O chuse, O chuse, Lady Margret,” he said, | |
| “O whether will ye gang or bide?” | |
| “I’ll gang, I’ll gang, Lord William,” she said, | 35 |
| “For ye have left me no other guide.” | |
| |
| He’s lifted her on a milk-white steed, | |
| And himself on a dapple grey, | |
| With a bugelet horn hung down by his side, | |
| And slowly they baith rade away. | 40 |
| |
| O they rade on, and on they rade, | |
| And a’ by the light of the moon, | |
| Until they came to yon wan water, | |
| And there they lighted down. | |
| |
| They lighted down to tak a drink | 45 |
| Of the spring that ran sae clear, | |
| And down the stream ran his gude heart’s blood, | |
| And sair she gan to fear. | |
| |
| “Hold up, hold up, Lord William,” she says, | |
| “For I fear that you are slain;” | 50 |
| “’Tis naething but the shadow of my scarlet cloak, | |
| That shines in the water sae plain.” | |
| |
| O they rade on, and on they rade, | |
| And a’ by the light of the moon, | |
| Until they cam to his mother’s ha door, | 55 |
| And there they lighted down. | |
| |
| “Get up, get up, lady mother,” he says, | |
| “Get up, and let me in! | |
| Get up, get up, lady mother,” he says, | |
| “For this night my fair lady I’ve win. | 60 |
| |
| “O mak my bed, lady mother,” he says, | |
| “O make it braid and deep, | |
| And lay lady Margret close at my back, | |
| And the sounder I will sleep.” | |
| |
| Lord William was dead lang ere midnight, | 65 |
| Lady Margret lang ere day, | |
| And all true lovers that go thegither, | |
| May they have mair luck than they! | |
| |
| Lord William was buried in St. Mary’s kirk, | |
| Lady Margret in Mary’s quire; | 70 |
| Out o the lady’s grave grew a bonny red rose, | |
| And out o the knight’s a brier. | |
| |
| And they twa met, and they twa plat, 4 | |
| And fain they wad be near; | |
| And a’ the warld might ken right weel | 75 |
| They were twa lovers dear. | |
| |
| But bye and rade the Black Douglas, | |
| And wow but he was rough! | |
| For he pulld up the bonny brier, | |
| And Flang’t in St. Mary’s Loch. | 80 |
