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Lord Rendal

No: 12; variant: 12B

  1. ‘O WHARE hae ye been a’ day, Lord Donald, my son? O whare hae ye been a’ day, my jollie young man?’ ‘I’ve been awa courtin; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  2. ‘What wad ye hae for your supper, Lord Donald, my son? What wad ye hae for your supper, my jollie young man?’ ‘I’ve gotten my supper; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  3. ‘What did ye get for your supper, Lord Donald,my son? What did ye get for your supper, my jollie young man?’ ‘A dish of sma fishes; mither mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  4. ‘Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son? Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?’ ‘In my father’s black ditches; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  5. ‘What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son? What like were your fishes, my jollie young man?’ ‘Black backs and spreckld bellies; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  6. ‘O I fear ye are poisond, Lord Donald, my son! O I fear ye are poisond, my jollie young man!’ ‘O yes! I am poisond; mither mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  7. ‘What will ye leave to your father, Lord Donald my son? What will ye leave to your father, my jollie young man?’ ‘Baith my houses and land; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  8. ‘What will ye leave to your brither, Lord Donald, my son? What will ye leave to your brither, my jollie young man?’ ‘My horse and the saddle; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  9. ‘What will ye leave to your sister, Lord Donald, my son? What will ye leave to your sister, my jollie young man?’ ‘Baith my gold box and rings; mither, mak my bed sune, For I’m sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun.’
  10. ‘What will ye leave to your true-love, Lord Donald, my son? What will ye leave to your true-love, my jollie young man?’ ‘The tow and the halter, for to hang on yon tree, And lat her hang there for the poysoning o me.’