Classic Poem

And there she 's leand her back to a thorn,
Oh and alelladay, oh and alelladay

And there she has her baby born.
Ten thousand times good night and be wi thee

She has houked a grave ayont the sun,
And there she has buried the sweet babe in.

And she 's gane back to her father's ha,
She 's counted the leelest maid o them a'.


‘O look not sae sweet, my bonie babe,
Gin ye smyle sae, ye 'll smyle me dead.’