Classic Poem

" Hold your hand, Lord Judge," she says,
" Yet hold it a little while;
Methinks I see my ain dear father
Coming wandering many a mile.

" O have you brought me gold, father?
Or have you brought me fee?
Or are you come to save my life
From off this gallows-tree?"

" I have not brought you gold, daughter,
Nor have I brought you fee,
But I am come to see you hangd,
As you this day shall be."

" I have not brought you gold, true-love,
Nor yet have I brought fee,
But I am come to save thy life
From off this gallows-tree."

" Gae hame, gae hame, father," she says,
" Gae hame and saw yer seed;
And I wish not a pickle of it may grow up,
But the thistle and the weed.

" Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, mother,
Gae hame and brew yer yill;
And I wish the girds may a' loup off,
And the Deil spill a' yer yill.

" Gae hame, gae hame, gae hame, brother,
Gae hame and lie with yer wife;
And I wish that the first news I may hear
That she has tane your life.

" Gae hame, gae hame, sister," she says,
" Gae hame and sew yer seam;
I wish that the needle-point may break,
And the craws pyke out yer een."