- 'O WHERE hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son? O where hae ye been, Lord Ronald, my son?' 'I hae been wi my sweetheart; mother, make my bed soon, For I'm weary wi the hunting, and fain wad lie down.'
- 'What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son? What got ye frae your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?' 'I hae got deadly poison; mother, make my bed soon, For life is a burden that soon I'll lay down.'