Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,

Ye maun gang to him soon;

Ye maun gang to your father, Janet,

In case that his days are dune!"

Janet's awa' to her father,

As fast as she could hie;

"O what's your will wi' me, father?

O what's your will wi' me?"

"My will wi' you, Fair Janet," he said,

"It is both bed and board;

Some say that ye lo'e Sweet Willie,

But ye maun wed a French lord."

"A French lord maun I wed, father?

A French lord maun I wed?

Then, by my sooth," quo' Fair Janet,

"He's ne'er enter my bed."

Janet's awa' to her chamber,

As fast as she could go;

Wha's the first ane that tapped there,

But Sweet Willie her jo!

"O we maun part this love, Willie,

That has been lang between;

There's a French lord coming o'er the sea

To wed me wi' a ring;

There's a French lord coming o'er the sea,

To wed and tak me hame."

"If we maun part this love, Janet,

It causeth mickle woe;

If we maun part this love, Janet,

It makes me into mourning go."

"But ye maun gang to your three sisters,

Meg, Marion, and Jean;

Tell them to come to Fair Janet,

In case that her days are dune."

Willie's awa to his three sisters,

Meg, Marion, and Jean;

"O haste, and gang to Fair Janet,

I fear that her days are dune."

Some drew to them their silken hose,

Some drew to them their shoon,

Some drew to them their silk mantles,

Their coverings to put on;

And they re awa to Fair Janet,

By the high light o' the moon.

"O I have born this babe, Willie,

Wi' mickle toil and pain;

Take hame, take hame, your babe, Willie,

For nurse I dare be nane."

He's tane his young son in his arms,

And kissed him cheek and chin,—

And he's awa' to his mother's bower,

By the high light o' the moon.

"O open, open, mother," he says,

"O open, and let me in;

The rain rains on my yellow hair,

And the dew drops o'er my chin,—

And I hae my young son in my arms,

I fear that his days are dune."

With her fingers lang and sma'

She lifted up the pin;

And with her arms lang and sma

Received the baby in.

"Gae back, gae back now, Sweet Willie,

And comfort your fair lady;

For where ye had but ae nourice,

Your young son shall hae three."

Willie he was scarce awa,

And the lady put to bed,

When in and came her father dear:

"Make haste, and busk the bride."

"There's a sair pain in my head, father,

There's a sair pain in my side;

And ill, O ill, am I, father,

This day for to be a bride.

"O ye maun busk this bonny bride,

And put a gay mantle on;

For she shall wed this auld French lord,

Gin she should die the morn."

Some put on the gay green robes,

And some put on the brown;

But Janet put on the scarlet robes,

To shine foremost through the town.

And some they mounted the black steed,

And some mounted the brown;

But Janet mounted the milk-white steed,

To ride foremost through the town.

"O wha will guide your horse, Janet?

O wha will guide him best?"

"O wha but Willie, my true love,

He kens I lo'e him best!"

And when they cam to Mary's kirk,

To tie the haly ban,

Fair Janet's cheek looked pale and wan,

And her colour ga'ed and cam.

When dinner it was past and done,

And dancing to begin,

"O we'll go take the bride's maidens,

And we'll go fill the ring."=

O ben then cam the auld French lord,

Saying, "Bride, will ye dance with me?"

"Awa', awa', ye auld French Lord,

Your face I downa see."

O ben then cam now Sweet Willie,

He cam with ane advance:

"O I'll go tak the bride's maidens,

And we'll go tak a dance."

"I've seen ither days wi' you, Willie,

And so has mony mae;

Ye would hae danced wi' me mysel',

Let a my maidens gae."

O ben then cam now Sweet Willie,

Saying, "Bride, will ye dance wi' me?"

"Aye, by my sooth, and that I will,

Gin my back should break in three."

[And she's taen Willie by the hand,

The tear blinded her e'e;

"O I wad dance wi' my true love,

Tho' bursts my heart in three!"]

She hadna turned her through the dance,

Through the dance but thrice,

Whan she fell doun at Willie's feet,

And up did never rise!

[She's ta'en her bracelet frae her arm,

Her garter frae her knee:

"Gie that, gie that, to my young son;

He'll ne'er his mother see."]

Willie's ta'en the key of his coffer,

And gi'en it to his man;

"Gae hame, and tell my mother dear,

My horse he has me slain;

Bid her be kind to my young son,

For father he has nane."

["Gar deal, gar deal the bread," he cried,

"Gar deal, gar deal the wine;

This day has seen my true love's death,

This night shall witness mine."]

The tane was buried in Mary's kirk,

And the tither in Mary's quire:

Out of the tane there grew a birk,

And the tither a bonny briar.

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