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Prince Robert

PRINCE ROBERT he has wedded a wife, An he daurna bring her hame; The queen . . . . His mither was much to blame.

'It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither, I dinna ken what it is here, To like your wife better than your mither, That . . . bought you sae dear.'
She called upon her best marie, An tippet her wi a ring, To bring to her the rank poison, To gie Prince Robert a dram.
She put it to her cheek, her cheek, She put it to her chin; She put it to her fause, fause lips, But neer a drap gaed in.
She put it to his cheek, his cheek, She put it to his chin; She put it to his rosy lips, An the rank poison gaed in.
'Whare will I get a bonnie boy, Wha will win meat an fee, Wha will rin on to . . . bower, Bring my gude ladie to me?'
'Here am I, a bonnie boy, Willin to win meat an fee, Wha will rin on to . . . bower, An bring your gude ladie.'
'Whan you come to broken brig, Tak aff your coat an swim; An whan you come to grass growin, Tak aff your shoon an rin.'
An whan he cam to broken brig, He coost his coat an swam, An whan he cam to grass growin, Set doon his feet an ran.
An whan he cam to the ladie's bower, He fand her a' her lane, . . . . . . . . . .