Glen Collection of printed music > Printed text > Scottish ballads

200
Richt hastilie he rase him tip,
Socht neither hose nor shoen ;
And he's doen him to the stable door,
By the lee licht o' the mune.
" O open the door, Burd Helen," he said,
" O open and let me in ;
I want to see if my steed be fed,
Or my greyhounds fit to rin."
" O lullaby, my own deir child I
Lullaby, deir child, deir !
I wold thy father were a king,
Thy mother laid on a beir I"
" O open the door, Burd Helen," he says,
" O open the door to me ;
Or, as my sword hangs by my gair,
I'll gar it gang in three I"
" That never was my mother's custome,
And I hope it's ne'er be mine ;
A knicht into her companie,
When she dries a' her pyne."
He hit the door then wi' his foot,
Sae did he wi' his knee ;
Till doors o' deal, and locks o' steel.
In splinders he gart flee.
" An askin, an askin, Lord John," she says,
" An askin ye'll grant me ;
The meanest maid about your house.
To bring a drink to me.
An askin, an askin, my dear Lord John,
An askin ye'll grant me ;