And whan she cam to Marie's kirke,
She sat on Marie's stean;

The cleading that fair Annet had on
It skinkled in their ean.

And whan she cam into the kirke,
She skimmer'd like the sun;
The belt that was about her waist
Was a' wi' pearles bedone.

She sat her by the nut-browne bride,
And hir een they wer sae clear,
Lord Thomas he clean forgat the bride,
When fair Annet drew near.

He had a rose into his hand,
He gae it kisses three,

And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annet's knee.

Up then spak the nut-browne bride,
She spak wi' meikle spite;
And whair gat ye that rose-water
That does mak yee sae white?

OI did get the rose-water

Whair ye wull neir get nane;
For I did get that very rose-water
Into my mither's wame.

The bride she drew a long bodkin
Frae out her gay head-gear,

And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word spak nevir mair.

Lord Thomas saw fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee;

Bot whan he saw her dear hearts' blude, A wood-wroth wexed hee.

He drew his dagger that was sae sharp,
That was sae sharp and meet,

And drave it into the nut-browne bride,
That fell deid at his feit.

Now stay for me, dear Annet, he said,
Now stay, my dear, he cry'd;
Then strake the dagger untill his heart,
And fell deid by hir side.

Lord Thomas was bury'd without kirk-wa',
Fair Annet within the quiere;
And o' the tane thair grew a birk,
The other a bonny briere.

And ay they grew, and ay they threw,
As they wad faine be neare;
And by this ye may ken right weil,
They wer twa luvers deare.

This Ballad is almost an universal favourite, and is to be met with in every part of the country, with innumerable variations. It is one of those romantic old ditties, with which unsophisticated youth will ever be found in unison, and over which, even the mind that is selfish and hackneyed in the ways of men, will be glad, at times, to doze and enjoy the momentary dream of disinterested attachment.

ADAM O' GORDON.

It fell about the Martinmas,

Whan the wind blew shrill and cauld:

Said Adam o' Gordon to his men,

"We maun draw to a hauld.

"And what a hauld sall we draw to,

"My mirrie men and me?

"We will gae strait to Towie House
"And see that fair ladie."

The lady on her castle wa'

Beheld baith dale and doun,

When she was 'ware of a host of men
Riding toward the toun.

'O see ye not, my mirry men a',
O see ye not what I see?
'Methinks I see a host of men,
'I marvel wha they be.'

She wein'd it had been her luvely lord,
As he came riding hame;
It was the traitor Adam o' Gordon,
Wha reck'd nae sin or shame.

She had nae suner busked hersel,
And putten on her gown,
Than Adam o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the toun.

The lady ran to her touir heid
Sae fast as she cold drie,
To see if by her speiches fair
She cold wi' him agree.

But whan he saw the lady safe,
And the yates a' locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrauth,
And his heart was all aghast.

"Cum doun to me ye lady gay,
"Cum doun, cum doun to me:
"This nicht ye sall lye in my arms,
"The morrow my bride sall be."

'I winna cum doun ye fause Gordon,
'I winna cum doun to thee;
'I winna forsake my ain deir lord,
'Thouch he is far frae me.'

"Give owr your house, ye lady fair, "Give owr your house to me; "Or I sall brin yoursel' therein, "Bot and your babies thrie."

'I winna give owr, ye fause Gordon,
'To nae sic traitour as thee;
'And if be brin me and my babes,
My lord sall mak ye drie.

"But reach my pistol, Glaud my man, And charge ye weil my gun,

For, bot if I perce that bluidy butcher, 'We a' sall be undone.'

She stude upon the castle wa'

And let twa bullets flie;

She mist that bluidy butcher's heart,
And only raz'd his knie.

"Set fire to the house," cry'd fause Gordon,

A' wood wi' dule and ire;

"Fause lady ye sall rue this deid

"As ye brin in the fire."

Wae worth, wae worth ye Jock my man, 'I paid ye weel your fee;

'Why pow ye out the ground-wa' stane 'Lets in the reik to me?

And ein wae worth ye Jock my man
'I paid ye weil your hire;
Why pow ye out the ground-wa' stane
'To me lets in the fire?"

"Ye paid me weil my hire, lady,

"Ye paid me weil my fee: "But now I'm Adam o' Gordon's man; "And maun or doe or die."

O then bespak her little son

Frae aff the nource's knie,

'O mither deir, gi owr this house, " For the reik it smithers me!'

"I wald gie a' my gowd, my chyld, "Sae wald I a' my fee,

"For ae blast o' the westlin wind, "To blaw the reik frae thee."

O then bespak her dochtir deir,
She was baith jimp and sma',
'O row me in a pair o' sheits,
'And tow me owr the wa'.

They row'd her in a pair o' sheits,
And tow'd her owr the wa',
But on the point o' Gordon's speir
She gat a deidly fa'.

O bonnie bonnie was her mouth,
And chirry were her cheiks;
And cleir cleir was her yellow hair,
Wharon the reid bluid dreips!

Than wi' his speir he turn'd her owr—
O gin her face was wan!
Quoth he, "Ye are the first that eir
"I wish'd alive again."

He turn'd her owr and owr again—
O gin her skin was white!

I micht ha spar'd that bonnie face
"To hae been sum man's delyte.

"Busk and bown, my mirry men a',
"For ill doom do I guess:
"I canna luik on that bonnie face,
"As it lyes on the grass."

'Wha luik to freits, my master deir,
'Freits will ay follow them:
'Let it neir be said, Adam o' Gordon
Was daunted by a dame.'