| |
| WORD’S gane to the kitchen, | |
| And word’s gane to the ha, | |
| That Marie Hamilton has born a bairn | |
| To the hichest Stewart of a’. | |
| |
| She’s tyed it in her apron | 5 |
| And she’s thrown it in the sea; | |
| Says, ‘Sink ye, swim ye, bonny wee babe, | |
| You’ll ne’er get mair o me.’ | |
| |
| Down then cam the auld Queen, | |
| Goud 1 tassels tying her hair: | 10 |
| ‘O Marie, where’s the bonny wee babe | |
| That I heard greet 2 sae sair?’ 3 | |
| |
| ‘There was never a babe intill 4 my room, | |
| As little designs to be; | |
| It was but a touch o my sair side, | 15 |
| Came o’er my fair bodie.’ | |
| |
| ‘O Marie, put on your robes o black, | |
| Or else your robes o brown, | |
| For ye maun gang 5 wi me the night, | |
| To see fair Edinbro town.’ | 20 |
| |
| ‘I winna put on my robes o black, | |
| Nor yet my robes o brown; | |
| But I’ll put on my robes o white, | |
| To shine through Edinbro town.’ | |
| |
| When she gaed up the Cannogate, | 25 |
| She laughd loud laughters three; | |
| But when she cam down the Cannogate | |
| The tear blinded her ee. | |
| |
| When she gaed up the Parliament stair, | |
| The heel cam aff her shee; 6 | 30 |
| And lang or she cam down again | |
| She was condemnd to dee. | |
| |
| When she came down the Cannogate, | |
| The Cannogate sae free, | |
| Many a ladie lookd o’er her window, | 35 |
| Weeping for this ladie. | |
| |
| ‘Make never meen 7 for me,’ she says, | |
| ‘Make never meen for me; | |
| Seek never grace frae a graceless face, | |
| For that ye’ll never see. | 40 |
| |
| ‘Bring me a bottle of wine,’ she says, | |
| ‘The best that eer ye hae,’ 8 | |
| That I may drink to my weil-wishers, | |
| And they may drink to me. | |
| |
| ‘And here’s to the jolly sailor lad | 45 |
| That sails upon the faem; | |
| And let not my father nor mother get wit | |
| But that I shall come again. | |
| |
| ‘And here’s to the jolly sailor lad | |
| That sails upon the sea; | 50 |
| But let not my father nor mother get wit 9 | |
| O the death that I maun dee. | |
| |
| ‘O little did my mother think, | |
| The day she cradled me, | |
| What lands I was to travel through, | 55 |
| What death I was to dee. | |
| |
| ‘O little did my father think, | |
| The day he held up me, | |
| What lands I was to travel through, | |
| What death I was to dee. | 60 |
| |
| ‘Last nicht I washd the Queen’s feet, | |
| And gently laid her down; | |
| And a’ the thanks I’ve gotten the nicht | |
| To be hangd in Edinbro town! | |
| |
| ‘Last nicht there was four Maries, | 65 |
| The nicht there’ll be but three; | |
| There was Marie Seton, and Marie Beton, | |
| And Marie Carmichael, and me.’ | |
