Part 25 (2/2)

As they were at their dinner set, The boy he asked a boon: ”I wold we were in haly kirk, To get our christendoun.

”For we hae lived in gude greenwood These twelve lang years and ane; But a' this time since e'er I mind Was never a kirk within.”

”Your asking's na sae great, my boy, But granted it sall be: This day to haly kirk sall ye gang, And your mither sall gang you wi'.”

When she cam' to the haly kirk, She at the door did stan'; She was sae sunken doun wi' shame, She couldna come farther ben.

Then out it spak' the haly priest, Wi' a kindly word spak' he: ”Come ben, come ben, my lily-flower, And bring your babes to me.”

LAMKIN.

It's Lamkin was a mason good As ever built wi' stane; He built Lord Wearie's castle, But payment gat he nane.

”O pay me, Lord Wearie, Come, pay me my fee:”

”I canna pay you, Lamkin, For I maun gang o'er the sea.”

”O pay me now, Lord Wearie, Come, pay me out o' hand:”

”I canna pay you, Lamkin, Unless I sell my land.”

”O gin ye winna pay me, I here sall mak' a vow, Before that ye come hame again, Ye sall hae cause to rue.”

Lord Wearie got a bonny s.h.i.+p, To sail the saut sea faem; Bade his lady weel the castle keep, Ay till he should come hame.

But the nourice was a fause limmer As e'er hung on a tree; She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, Whan her lord was o'er the sea.

She laid a plot wi' Lamkin, When the servants were awa', Loot him in at a little shot-window, And brought him to the ha'.

”O where's a' the men o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?”

”They're at the barn-well thras.h.i.+ng; 'Twill be lang ere they come in.”

”And where's the women o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?”

”They're at the far well was.h.i.+ng; 'Twill be lang ere they come in.”

”And where's the bairns o' this house, That ca' me Lamkin?”

”They're at the school reading; 'Twill be night or they come hame.”

”O where's the lady o' this house, That ca's me Lamkin?”

”She's up in her bower sewing, But we soon can bring her down.”

Then Lamkin's tane a sharp knife, That hang down by his gaire, And he has gi'en the bonny babe A deep wound and a sair.

Then Lamkin he rocked, And the fause nourice she sang, Till frae ilka bore o' the cradle The red blood out sprang.

Then out it spak' the lady, As she stood on the stair: ”What ails my bairn, nourice, That he's greeting sae sair?

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