“O where have ye been the morn sae late, My merry son, come tell me hither? O where have ye been the morn sae late? And I wot I hae not anither.”
“By the water-gate, by the water-gate, O dear mither.” “And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And whatten kin’ o’ wark had ye there to make? And I wot I hae not anither.” “I watered my steeds with water frae the lake, O dear mither.”
“Why is your coat sae fouled the day, My merry son, come tell me hither? Why is your coat sae fouled the day? And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The steeds were stamping sair by the weary banks of clay, O dear mither.” “And where gat ye thae sleeves of red, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And where gat ye thae sleeves of red? And I wot I hae not anither.” “I have slain my ae brither by the weary waterhead, O dear mither.”
“And where will ye gang to mak your mend, My merry son, come tell me hither? And where will ye gang to mak your mend? And I wot I hae not anither.”
“The warldis way, to the warldis end, O dear mither.” “And what will ye leave your father dear, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your father dear? And I wot I hae not anither.” “The wood to fell and the logs to bear, For he'll never see my body mair,
O dear mither.” “And what will ye leave your mither dear, My merry son, come tell me hither? And what will ye leave your mither dear?
And I wot I hae not anither.” “The wool to card and the wool to wear, For ye'll never see my body mair, O dear mither.”
“And what will ye leave for your wife to take, My merry son, come tell me hither? And what will ye leave for your wife to take? And I wot I hae not anither.”
“A goodly gown and a fair new make, For she'll do nae mair for my body's sake, O dear mither.” “And what will ye leave your young son fair,
My merry son, come tell me hither? And what will ye leave your young son fair? And I wot ye hae not anither.” “A twiggen school-rod for his body to bear,
Though it garred him greet he'll get nae mair, O dear mither.” “And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet, My merry son, come tell me hither?
And what will ye leave your little daughter sweet? And I wot ye hae not anither.” “Wild mulberries for her mouth to eat, She'll get nae mair though it garred her greet,
O dear mither.” “And when will ye come back frae roamin’, My merry son, come tell me hither? And when will ye come back frae roamin’?
And I wot I hae not anither.” “When the sunrise out of the north is comen, O dear mither.” “When shall the sunrise on the north side be,
My merry son, come tell me hither? When shall the sunrise on the north side be? And I wot I hae not anither.” “When chuckie-stanes shall swim in the sea,
O dear mither.” “When shall stanes in the sea swim, My merry son, come tell me hither? When shall stanes in the sea swim?
And I wot I hae not anither.” “When birdies’ feathers are as lead therein, O dear mither.” “When shall feathers be as lead,
My merry son, come tell me hither? When shall feathers be as lead? And I wot I hae not anither.” “When God shall judge between the quick and dead,
O dear mither.”
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