PR Website - The Broomfield Hill

'I'LL wager, I'll wager wi you, fair maid, Five hunder punds and ten, That a maid winna gae to the bonnie green bower, An a maid return back agen.'
'I'll wager, I'll wager wi you, kin' sir, Five hunder punds and ten, That a maid I'll gang to the bonnie green bower, An a maid return again.'
But when she cam to the bonnie green bower, Her true-love was fast asleep; Sumtimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips, An his breath was wondrous sweet.
Sometimes she went to the crown o his head, Sometimes to the soles o his feet, Sometimes she kist his rosie, rosie lips, An his breath was wondrous sweet.
She's taen a ring frae her finger, Laid it upon his breast-bane; It was for a token that she had been there, That she had been there, but was gane.
'Where was you, where was ye, my merry men a', That I do luve sae dear, That ye didna waken me out o my sleep When my true love was here?
'Where was ye, where was ye, my gay goshawk, That I do luve sae dear, That ye didna waken me out o my sleep Whan my true love was here?'
'Wi my wings I flaw, kin' sir, An wi my bill I sang, But ye woudna waken out o yer sleep Till your true love was gane.'
'Where was ye, my bonnie grey steed, That I do luve sae dear, That ye didna waken me out o my sleep When my true love was here?'
'I stampit wi my fit, maister, And made my bridle ring, But ye wadna waken out o yer sleep, Till your true love was gane.'