Out it spake Lizzie Lindsay,

The tear blinket in her ee;

How can I leave father and mother,

Along with young Donald to gae.

Out spak Lizzie's young handmaid,

A bonny young lassie was she;

Said,—"were I heiress to a kingdom,

Along wi' young Donald I'd gae."

"O say you so to me, Nelly?

O say ye so to me?

Must I leave Edinburgh city,

To the high Highland to gae?"

Out spak Lizzie's own mother,

A good old lady was she,

"If ye speak sic a word to my daughter,

I'll gar hang ye high."

"Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam;

Keep weel your daughter frae me;

I care as little for your daughter,

As ye can care for me."

The road grew wetty and dubby;

And Lizzie began to think lang;

Said, "I wish I had stayed with my mother,

And na wi' young Donald had gone."

"Yere welcome hame, Sir Donald;

Yere welcome hame to me;

Yere welcome hame, Sir Donald,

And your bonny young lady wi' ye."

"Ye call na me Sir Donald,

But ca me Donald your son."

"Rise up, Lizzie Lindsay,

You have lain too long in the day;

You might have helped my mother

To milk her goats and her kye."

Out it spake Lizzie Lindsay,

The tear blinket her eye;

"The ladies o' Edinburgh city

They neither milk goats nor kye."

(dubby, full of puddles.)