No: 7; variant: 7E
- HE has lookit over his left shoulder,
And through his bonnie bridle rein,
And he spy’d her father and her seven bold brethren,
Come riding down the glen.
- ‘O hold my horse, Lady Margret,’ he said,
O hold my horse by the bonnie bridle rein,
Till I fight your father and seven bold brethren,
As they come riding down the glen.’
- Some time she rade, and some time she gaed,
Till she that place did near,
And there she spy’d her seven bold brethren slain,
And her father who loved her so dear.
- ‘O hold you hand, sweet William,’ she said,
‘Your bull baits are wondrous sair;
Sweet-hearts I may get many a one,
But a father I will never get mair.’
- She has taken a napkin from off her neck,
That was of the cambrick so fine,
And aye as she wiped her father’s bloody wounds,
The blood ran red as the wine.
- He set her upon the milk-white steed,
Himself upon the brown;
He took a horn out of his pocket,
And they both went weeping along.