Classic Poem

There was three ladies play'd at the ba',
With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay;
There came a knight, and play'd o'er them a',
As the primrose spreads so sweetly.

The eldest was baith tall and fair,
But the youngest was beyond compare.

The midmost had a gracefu' mien,
But the youngest look'd like Beauty's queen.

The knight bow'd low to a' the three,
But to the youngest he bent his knee.

The lady turned her head aside,
The knight he woo'd her to be his bride.

The lady blush'd a rosy red,
And said, Sir knight, I'm o'er young to wed.

O lady fair, give me your hand,
And I'll mak you ladie of a' my land.

Sir knight, ere you my favour win,
Ye maun get consent frae a' my kin.

He has got consent frae her parents dear,
And likewise frae her sisters fair.

He has got consent frae her kin each one,
But forgot to speir at her brother John.

Now when the wedding day was come
The knight would take his bonny bride home.

And many a lord and many a knight
Came to behold that lady bright.

And there was nae man that did her see,
But wished himself bridegroom to be.

Her father dear led her down the stair,
And her sisters twain they kiss'd her there.

Her mother dear led her through the close,
And her brother John set her on her horse.

She lean'd her o'er the saddle-bow,
To give him a kiss ere she did go.

He has ta'en a knife baith lang and sharp
And stabb'd the bonny bride to the heart.

She hadna ridden half thro' the town
Until her heart's blood stained her gown.

Ride saftly on, said the best young man,
For I think our bonny bride looks pale and wan.

O lead me gently up yon hill,
And I'll there sit down and make my will.

O what will you leave to your father dear?
The silver-shod steed that brought me here.

What will you leave to your mother dear?
My velvet pall and silken gear.

And what will ye leave to your sister Ann?
My silken scarf and my golden fan.

What will ye leave to your sister Grace?
My bloody cloaths to wash and dress.

What will ye leave to your brother John?
The gallows-tree to hang him on.

What will ye leave to your brother John's wife?
The wilderness to end her life.

This fair lady in her grave was laid,
And a mass was o'er her said.

But it would have made your heart right sair,
With a heigh-ho! and a lily gay,
To see the bridegroom rive his hair,
As the primrose spreads so sweetly.