Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Scottish ballads

362
And, every first nicht o' the new mune,
She kames her yellow hair.
And ay, while she sheds the yellow burning gowd,
Fu' sweit she sings and hie ;
Till the fairest bird in the green wood
Is charmed wi' her melodie.
But wha e'er listens to that sweet sang,
Or gangs the fair dame te,f
Ne'er hears the sang o' the lark again,
Nor waukens an earthlie ee.
It fell in about the sweet summer month,
r the first come o' the mune,
That she sat o' the tap o' a sea- weed rock,
A-kaming her silk locks doun.
•' Sic as ye gae, sic ye sail hae ;
On nathing less we reckon."
" Donald, my man, wait till I fa'.
And ye sail get my brechan :
Ye'll get my purse, though fu' o' gowd.
To tak me to Loch Lagan."
Syne they took out his bleeding heart.
And set it on a speir ;
Then took it to the house o* Mar,
And showed it to his deir.
*« We couldna gie ye Sir James's purse.
Nor yet could we his breehan ;
But ye sail hae his bleeding heart.
But and his bloody tartan."
" Sir James the Rose, Oh, for thy sake.
My heart is now a-brealung;
Cursed be the day I wrocht thy wae.
Thou brave heir o' Buleichan !"
Then up she rase, and furth she gaes ;
And, in that hour o' tein,*
She wandered to the dowie glen.
And never mair was seen.
* Excessive grief.
t To.