| |
| WHITE was the rose in his gay bonnet, | |
| As he faulded me in his broached plaidie, | |
| His hand whilk clasped the truth luve, | |
| O it was ay in battle ready! | |
| His long, long hair in yellow hanks | 5 |
| Waved o’er his cheeks sae sweet and ruddie; | |
| But now they wave o’er Carlisle yetts | |
| In dripping ringlets clotting bloodie. | |
| |
| My father’s blood ’s in that flower-tap, | |
| My brother’s in that hare-bell’s blossom, | 10 |
| This white rose was steeped in my luve’s blood, | |
| An’ I ’ll ay wear it in my bosom. * * * * * | |
| When I came first by merry Carlisle, | |
| Was ne’er a town sae sweetly seeming; | |
| The White Rose flaunted owre the wall, | 15 |
| The thristled banners far were streaming! | |
| When I came next by merry Carlisle, | |
| O sad, sad seemed the town an’ eerie! | |
| The auld, auld men came out an’ wept, | |
| “O maiden, come ye to seek yere dearie?” * * * * * | 20 |
| There ’s ae drop o’ blude atween my breasts, | |
| An’ twa in my links o’ hair sae yellow; | |
| The tane I ’ll ne’er wash, an’ the tither ne’er kame, | |
| But I ’ll sit an’ pray aneath the willow. | |
| Wae, wae upon that cruel heart, | 25 |
| Wae, wae upon that hand sae bloodie, | |
| Which feasts in our richest Scottish blude, | |
| An’ makes sae mony a doleful widow. | |
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