The Wife Wrapt in Wether’s Skin
No: 277; variant: 277B
- ROBIN he's gane to the wast,
Hollin, green hollin
He's waled a wife amang the warst.
Bend your bows, Robin
- She could neither bake nor brew,
For spoilin o her bonnie hue.
- She could nether spin nor caird,
But fill the cup, an sair the laird.
- She could nether wash nor wring,
For spoilin o her gay goud ring.
- Robin's sworn by the rude
That he wald mak an ill wife gude.
- Robin he's gaun to the fauld,
An taen his blaik [wither] by the spauld.
- He's taen aff his wither's skin
An he has preened his ain wife in.
- 'I daurna beat my wife, for a' her kin,
But I may beat my wither's skin.'
- 'I can baith bake an brew;
What care I for my bonnie hue?
- 'I can baith wash an wring;
What care I for my gay gowd ring?
- 'I can baith spin an caird;
Lat onybodie sair the laird.'
- Robin's sworn by the rude
That he has made an ill wife gude.