6 Twas thus my hair they bad me braid, They bade me to the church repair; It was my bridal morn they faid, Ahd my true love would meet me there. But woe'betide the cruel guile, That drown'd in blood the morning fmile! And woe betide the fairy dream ! I only wak’d to fob and fcream.
Herring in sa't.
My daddy is dead an' left me some Ian' lass gin ye loe me tell me true: An aft times I maun gang to the barn, and I canna win ilka day to woo.
I hae corn will soon be made meal. lass gin ye loe me tell me now; An’ I hae barley to mak some kail, an’ I canna come ilka day to woo.
I hae laid three herring ia sa’t, lass gin ye loe me tell me now, I hae brewn a torpet o ma't, and I canna win ilka day to woo.
I hae a calf will soon be a cow, lass gin ye loe me tell me now, I hae a pig will soon be a sow, and I canna come ony man to woo.
I hae a house on yonder muir, lass gin ye loe me tell me now ;
