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 !" "'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 o' the moon,
Until they came to his mither's ha' door,
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 won.

"O mak my bed, lady mother," he says,
"O mak it braid and deep!

And lay Lady Margaret close at my back,
And the sounder I will sleep."

Lord William was dead lang ere midnight— Lady Margaret lang ere day;

And all true lovers that go together,

May they have mair luck than they!

Lord William was buried in St Marie's kirk, Lady Margaret in Marie's quire;

Out of the lady's grave grew a bonnie red rose, And out of the knight's a brier.

And they twa met, and they twa plait,
And fain they wad be near;

And a' the warld might ken right weel,
They were twa lovers dear.

But bye and rade the black Douglas,
And wow but he was rough!
For he pull'd up the bonny brier,
And flang't in St Marie's loch.

THE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD.

ANONYMOUS.

O WILLIE's large o' limb and lith,
And come o' high degree;
And he is gane to Earl Richard,
To serve for meat and fee.

Earl Richard had but ae daughter,
Fair as a lily flower;

And they made up their love-contract
Like proper paramour.

It fell upon a simmer's nicht,

When the leaves were fair and green,

That Willie met his gay ladie

Intill the wood alane.

"O narrow is my gown, Willie,

That wont to be sae wide; And gane is a' my fair colour, That wont to be my pride.

"But gin my father should get word
What's past between us twa,
Before that he should eat or drink,
He'd hang you o'er that wa'.

"But ye'll come to my bower, Willie,
Just as the sun gaes down;
And kep me in your arms twa,
And letna me fa' down."

O when the sun was now gane down,
He's doen him till her bower;
And there, by the lee licht o' the moon,
Her window she lookit o'er.

Intill a robe o' red scarlet

She lap, fearless o' harm;

And Willie was large o' lith and limb,
And keppet her in his arm.

And they've gane to the gude green-wood;
And, ere the night was deen,
She's born to him a bonny young son,
Amang the leaves sae green.

When night was gane, and day was come,

And the sun began to peep,

Up and raise the Earl Richard

Out o' his drowsy sleep.

He's ca'd upon his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, and by three;
"O what's come o' my daughter dear,
That she's nae come to me?

"I dreamt a dreary dream last nicht,
God grant it come to gude!
I dreamt I saw my daughter dear
Drown in the saut sea flood.

"But gin my daughter be dead or sick, Or yet be stown awa,

I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true,
I'll hang ye ane and a'."

They sought her back, they sought her fore,
They sought her up and down;
They got her in the gude green-wood,
Nursing her bonny young son.

He took the bonny boy in his arms,
And kist him tenderlie;

Says, "though I would your father hang,
Your mother's dear to me."

He kist him o'er and o'er again,
"My grandson I thee claim;
And Robin Hood in gude green-wood,
And that shall be your name.

And mony ane sings o' grass, o'
And mony ane sings o' corn;

grass,

And mony ane sings o' Robin Hood,
Kens little where he was born.

It wasna in the ha', the ha',

Nor in the painted bower;

But it was in the gude green-wood,
Amang the lily flower.

SKIEN ANNA; FAIR ANNIE.

ANONYMOUS.

THE reivers they wad a-stealing gang,
To steal sae far frae hame;

And stown ha'e they the king's daughter,
Fair Annie hight by name.

They've carried her into fremmit lands,
To a duke's son of high degree;
And he has gien for Fair Annie
Mickle goud and white money.

And eight years lang o' love sae leal
Had past atween them twae;
And now a bonny bairntime
O' seven fair sons had they.

That lord he was of Meckelborg land,
Of princely blood and stemme;
And for his worth and courtesy

That lord a king became.

But little wist that noble king,

As little his barons bald,

That it was the king of England's daughter

Had sae to him been sald!

And eight years lang sae past and gane

Fair Annie now may rue;

For now she weets in fremmit lands

Anither bride he'll woo.