Classic Poem

Learn to mak your bed, Annie,
And learn to lie your lane,
For I maun owre the salt seas gang
A brisk bride to bring hame.

Bind up, bind up your yellow hair,
And tye it in your neck;
And see you look as maiden-like
As the day that we first met.

O how can I look maiden-like
When maiden I'll ne'er be;
When seven brave sons I've born to thee
And the eighth is in my bodie?

The eldest of your sons, my Lord,
Wi' red gold shines his weed;
The second of your sons, my Lord,
Rides on a milk-white steed;

And the third of your sons, my Lord,
He draws your beer and wine;
And the fourth of your sons, my Lord,
Can serve you when you dine;

And the fift of your sons, my Lord,
He can both read and write;
And the sixth of your sons, my Lord,
Can do it most perfyte;

And the sevent of your sons, my Lord,
Sits on the nurse's knee:
And how can I look maiden-like
When a maid I'll never be?

But wha will bake your wedding bread
And brew your bridal ale;
Or wha will welcome your brisk bride
That you bring owre the dale?

I'll put cooks in my kitchen
And stewards in my hall,
And I'll have bakers for my bread
And brewers for my ale;
But you're to welcome my brisk bride
That I bring owre the dale.

He set his feet into his ship
And his cock-boat on the main;
He swore it would be year and day
Or he returned again.

When year and day was past and gane
Fair Annie she thocht lang,
And she is up to her bower head
To behold both sea and land.

Come up, come up, my eldest son,
And see now what you see;
Oh yonder comes your father dear
And your stepmother to be.

Cast off your gown of black, mother,
Put on your gown of brown;
And I'll put off my mourning weeds
And we'll welcome him hame.

She 's taken wine into her hand
And she has taken bread,
And she is down to the water side
To welcome them indeed.

You're welcome, my lord, you're welcome, my lord,
You're welcome home to me,
So is every lord and gentleman
That is in your companie.

You're welcome, my lady, you're welcome, my lady,
You're welcome home to me,
So is every lady and gentleman
That's in your companie.

I thank you, my girl, I thank you, my girl,
I thank you heartily;
If I live seven years about this house
Rewarded you shall be.

She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down,
With the wheat bread and the wine;
But aye she drank the cauld water
To keep her colour fine.

She serv'd them up, she serv'd them down,
With the wheat bread and the beer;
But aye she drank the cauld water
To keep her colour clear.

When bells were rung and mass was sung
And all were boune for rest,
Fair Annie laid her sons in bed
And a sorrowfu' woman she was.

Will I go to the salt salt seas,
And see the fishes swim;
Or will I go to the gay green wood
And hear the small birds sing?

Out and spoke an aged man
That stood behind the door:
Ye will not go to the salt salt seas
To see the fishes swim,
Nor will ye go to the gay green wood
To hear the small birds sing:

But ye'll take a harp into your hand,
Go to their chamber door,
And aye ye'll harp and aye ye'll murn
With the salt tears falling oer.

She's taen a harp into her hand,
Went to their chamber door,
And aye she harped and aye she murn'd
With the salt tears falling o'er.

Out and spak the brisk young bride
In bride bed where she lay:
I think I hear my sister Annie,
And I wish weel it may;
For a Scotish lord staw her awa,
And an ill death may he die.

Wha was your father, my girl, she says,
Or wha was your mother,
Or had you ever a sister dear,
Or had you ever a brother?

King Henry was my father dear,
Queen Esther was my mother,
Prince Henry was my brother dear,
And Fanny Flower my sister.

If King Henry was your father dear,
And Queen Esther was your mother,
If Prince Henry was your brother dear,
Then surely I'm your sister.

Come to your bed, my sister dear,
It ne'er was wrang'd for me,
Bot an ae kiss of his merry mouth
As we cam owre the sea.

Awa, awa, ye forenoon bride,
Awa, awa frae me;
I wudna hear my Annie greet
For a' the gold I got wi' thee.

There were five ships of gay red gold
Cam owre the seas with me,
It 's twa o' them will tak me hame
And three I'll leave wi' thee.

Seven ships o' white monie
Came owre the seas wi' me,
Five o' them I'll leave wi' thee
And twa will take me hame;
And my mother will make my portion up
When I return again.