The King’s Dochter Lady Jean
No: 52; variant: 52D
- THE lady’s taen her mantle her middle about,
Into the woods she’s gane,
. . . . . .
. . . . .
- She hadna poud a flower o gude green-wood,
O never a flower but ane,
Till by he comes, an by he gangs,
Says, Lady, lat alane.
- For I am forester o this wood,
And I hae power to pine
Your mantle or your maidenhead,
Which o the twa ye’ll twine.
- ‘My mantle is o gude green silk,
Another I can card an spin;
But gin ye tak my maidenhead,
The like I’ll never fin.’
- He’s taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
And laid her low at the foot o a tree,
At her high kin spierd nae leave.
- ‘I am bold Burnet’s ae daughter,
You might hae lat me be:’
‘And I’m bold Burnet’s ae dear son,
Then dear! how can this dee?’
- ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye jolly hind squire,
So loud’s I hear you lie!
Bold Burnet has but ae dear son,
He’s sailing on the sea.’
- ‘Yesterday, about this same time,
My bonny ship came to land;
I wish she’d sunken in the sea,
And never seen the strand!
- ‘Heal well this deed on me, lady,
Heal well this deed on me!’
‘Although I would heal it neer sae well,
Our God above does see.’
- She’s taen her mantle her middle about,
And mourning went she hame,
And a’ the way she sighd full sair,
Crying, Am I to blame!
- Ben it came her father dear,
Stout stepping on the flear:
‘Win up, win up, my daughter Janet,
And welcome your brother here.’
- Up she’s taen her milk-white hand,
Streakd by his yellow hair,
Then turnd about her bonny face,
And word spake never mair.