Classic Poem

The Laird o' Roslin's daughter,
Walked thro' the woods her lane;
And by cam' Captain Wedderburn,
A servant to the King.
He said unto his serving man,
" Were't not against the law,
I wad tak' her to my ain bed,
And lay her neist the wa'. "

" I am walking here alane, " she says,
" Amang my father's trees;
And you must let me walk alane,
Kind sir, now, if you please:
The supper bell it will be rung,
And I'll be mist awa;
Sae I winna lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'. "

He says, " My pretty lady,
I pray lend me your hand,
And ye'll hae drums and trumpets
Always at your command;
And fifty men to guard you wi',
That well their swords can draw;
Sae we'se baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'se lie neist the wa'. "

" Haud awa frae me, " she said,
" And pray let gae my hand:
The supper bell it will be rung;
I can nae langer stand;
My father he will angry be,
Gin I be mist awa;
Sae I'll nae lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'. "

Then said the pretty lady,
" I pray tell me your name? "
" My name is Captain Wedderburn,
A servant to the king:
Though thy father and his men were here,
O' them I'd have nae awe;
But wad tak' you to my ain bed,
And lay you neist the wa'. "

He lichtit aff his berry-brown steed,
And set this lady on;
And held her by the milk-white hand,
Even as they rade along;
He held her by the middle jimp,
For fear that she should fa',
To tak' her to his ain bed,
And lay her neist the wa'.

He took her to his-lodging-house;
His landlady look'd ben;
Says, " Mony a pretty lady,
In Edinbruch I've seen;
But sic a lovely face as thine
In it I never saw;
Gae mak' her down a down-bed,
And lay her neist the wa'.

" O haud away frae me, " she says;
" I pray you let me be;
I winna gang into your bed,
Till ye dress me dishes three:
Dishes three ye maun dress me,
Gin I should eat them a',
Afore that I lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'.

" It's ye maun get to my supper
A cherry without a stane;
And ye maun get to my supper
A chicken without a bane;
And ye maun get to my supper
A bird without a ga';
Or I winna lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'. "

" It's when the cherry is in the blume,
I'm sure it has nae stane;
And when the chicken's in the egg,
I wat it has nae bane;
And, sin' the flood o' Noah,
The doo she has nae ga';
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'se lie neist the wa'. "

" O haud your tongue, young man, " she says,
" Nor that gate me perplex;
For ye maun tell me questions yet,
And that is questions six:
Questions six ye'll tell to me,
And that is three times twa,
Afore I lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'.

" What's greener than the greenest grass?
What's higher than the trees?
What's waur nor an ill woman's wish?
What's deeper than the seas?
What bird sings first? And whereupon
First doth the dew down ia'?
Ye sall tell afore I lay me down,
Between you and the wa'. "

" Vergris is greener than the grass;
Heaven's higher than the trees;
The deil's waur nor a woman's wish;
Hell's deeper than the seas;
The cock craws first; on cedar tap
The dew down first doth fa';
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'se lie neist the wa'. "

" O haud your tongue, young man, " she says,
" And gie your fleechin ower,
Unless ye find me ferlies,
And that is ferlies four;
Ferlies four ye maun find me,
And that is twa and twa;
Or I'll never lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'.

" It's ye maun get to me a plum,
That in December grew;
And ye maun get a silk mantel,
That waft was ne'er ca'd through;
A sparrow's horn; a priest unborn,
This night to join us twa;
Or I'll no lie in your bed,
Either at stock or wa'. "

" My father he has winter fruit,
That in December grew;
My mother has an Indian gown,
That waft was ne'er ca'd through;
A sparrow's horn is quickly found;
There's ane on every claw,
And twa upon the neb o' him;
And ye shall get them a'.

" The priest, he's standing at the door,
Just ready to come in;
Nae man can say thaThe was born,
Nae man, unless he sin;
A wild boar tore his mother's side,
He out o' it did fa';
Sae we'll baith lie in ae bed,
And ye'll lie neist the wa'. "

Little kenn'd Girzie Sinclair,
That morning when she raise,
That this would be the hindermost
O' a' her maiden days.
But now there's no within the realm,
I think, a blyther twa;
And they baith lie in ae bed,
And she lies neist the wa'.