There was a knight, in a summer's night,
Was riding oer the lee, diddle
An there he saw a bonny birdy,
Was singing upon a tree. diddle
O wow for day! diddle
An dear gin it were day! diddle
Gin it were day, an gin I were away!
For I ha na lang time to stay. diddle

" Make hast, make hast, ye gentle knight,
What keeps you here so late?
Gin ye kent what was doing at hame,
I fear you woud look blate."

" O what needs I toil day an night,
My fair body to kill,
Whan I hae knights at my comman,

There was a knight, an he had a daughter,
An he wad wed her, wi muckle sin;
Sae he has biggit a bonnie bower, love,
An a' to keep his fair daughter in.

But she hadna been in the bonnie bower, love,
And no twa hours but barely ane,
Till up started Tammas, her ain true lover,
And O sae fain as he wald been in.

" For a' sae weel as I like ye, Tammas,
An for a' sae weel as I like the gin,
I wadna for ten thousand pounds, love,
Na no this night wad I let thee in.

" But yonder is a bonnie greenwud,

There was a knight riding frae the east,
Sing the Cather banks, the bonnie brume
Wha had been wooing at monie a place.
And ye may beguile a young thing sune

He came unto a widow's door,
And speird whare her three dochters were.

The auldest ane 's to a washing gane,
The second 's to a baking gane.

The youngest ane 's to a wedding gane,
And it will be nicht or she be hame.

He sat him doun upon a stane,
Till thir three lasses came tripping hame.

There was a king of the north countree,
Bow down, bow down, bow down
There was a king of the north countree,
And he had daughters one, two, three.
I'll be true to my love, and my love'll be true to me.

To the eldest he gave a beaver hat,
And the youngest she thought much of that.

To the youngest he gave a gay gold chain,
And the eldest she thought much of the same.

These sisters were walking on the bryn,
And the elder pushed the younger in.

" Oh sister, oh sister, oh lend me your hand,

There was a King and he had three daughters,
And they all lived in a basin of water;
The basin bended,
My story's ended.
If the basin had been stronger
My story would have been longer.

There was a jury sat at Perth,
In the merry month of May,
Betwixt the noble Duke of Perth
But and Sir Gilbert Hay.

My lord Kingside has two daughters,
They are proper, straight and tall;
But my lord Carnegie he has two
That far excells them all.

Then Errol he has dressd him,
As very well he could;
I 'm sure there was not one cloth-yard
But what was trimmd with gold.

‘Ane asking, ane asking, my lord Carnegie,
Ane asking I 've to thee;
I 'm come to court your daughter Jean,
My wedded wife to be.’

There was a jolly beggar, and a begging he was born.
And he took up his quarters into a land 'art town,
And we'll gang nae mair a roving
Sae late into the night,
And we'll gang nae mair a roving, boys,
Let the moon shine ne'er so bright.

He wad neither ly in barn, nor yet wad he in byre;
But in ahint the ha'door, or else afore the fire.
And we'll gang nae mair a roving
Sae late into the night,
And we'll gang nae mair a roving, boys,
Let the moon shine ne'er so bright.

The beggar's bed was made at e'en wi' good clean straw and hay,

There was a Hag who kept two Chambermaids,
So well they spun that the Three Sister Spinners,
Compared with them, were bunglers and beginners.
And her sole study was to give them work.
The moment Phoebus left his watery bed,
Up wheel, up distaffs, spin, spin, spin,
Morning out and evening in,
She kept 'em at it like a Turk.
The moment Eos raised her golden head,
A shabby cock would crow his punctual note:
The Hag, still shabbier, from her pallet leaping,
Would huddle on a greasy petticoat,
Light a cracked lamp, and scurry to the bed

The Word goes forth! I see its conquering way,
O'er seas and mountains sweeps it mighty on;
The tribes of men are bowing 'neath its sway,
The pomp of kings, the pride of wisdom's gone;
Behold, the poor have raised the victor's shout;
The meek are crowned, their triumph too is nigh;
The barren now no more a son can doubt;
The mourner wipes her cheek and glittering eye;
Hark from the lofty places comes a groan,
That they cannot their wealth ill-gotten hide;
The midnight darkness from the thief is flown,
The garment's rent of falsely clothed pride;

There was a gay maiden lived down by the mill, —
Ferry me over the ferry, —
Her hair was as bright as the waves of a rill,
When the sun on the brink of his setting stands still,
Her lips were as full as a cherry.

A stranger came galloping over the hill, —
Ferry me over the ferry, —
He gave her broad silver and gold for his will:
She glanced at the stranger, she glanced o'er the sill;
The maiden was gentle and merry.

" O! what would you give for your virtue again? " —
Ferry me over the ferry, —