Her gowns seem'd like green, like green, Her kirtle o' the pa'; A siller wand intill her hand, She marshall'd ower them a'.
She gae every knight a lady bright, 35 And every squire a may; Her own sell chose him, Livingston, They were a comely tway.
Then Seaton started till his foot, The fierce flame in his e'e: 40 "On the next day, wi' sword in hand, On plain fields, meet ye me."
When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a' man bound for bed; Lord Livingston and his fair dame 45 In bed were sweetly laid.
The bed, the bed, where they lay in, Was cover'd wi' the pa'; A covering o' the gude red gowd, Lay nightly ower the twa. 50
So they lay there, till on the morn The sun shone on their feet; Then up it raise him, Livingston, To draw to him a weed.
The first an' weed that he drew on, 55 Was o' the linen clear; The next an' weed that he drew on, It was a weed o' weir.
The niest an' weed that he drew on, Was gude iron and steel; 60 Twa gloves o' plate, a gowden helmet, Became that hind chiel weel.
Then out it speaks that lady gay, A little forbye stood she; "I'll dress mysell in men's array, 65 Gae to the fields for thee."
"O God forbid," said Livingston, "That e'er I dree the shame; My lady slain in plain fields, And I coward knight at hame!" 70
He scarcely travelled frae the town A mile but barely twa, Till he met wi' a witch woman, I pray to send her wae.
"This is too gude a day, my lord, 75 To gang sae far frae town; This is too gude a day, my lord, On field to make you boun'.
"I dream'd a dream concerning thee, O read ill dreams to guid! 80 Your bower was full o' milk-white swans, Your bride's bed full o' bluid."
"O bluid is gude," said Livingston, "To bide it whoso may; If I be frae yon plain fields, 85 Nane knew the plight I lay."
Then he rade on to plain fields, As swift's his horse cou'd hie; And there he met the proud Seaton, Come boldly ower the lee. 90
"Come on to me now, Livingston, Or then take foot and flee; This is the day that we must try Who gains the victorie."
Then they fought with sword in hand, 95 Till they were bluidy men; But on the point o' Seaton's sword Brave Livingston was slain.
His lady lay ower castle wa', Beholding dale and down, 100 When Blenchant brave, his gallant steed, Came prancing to the town.
"O where is now my ain gude lord, He stays sae far frae me?"
"O dinna ye see your ain gude lord, 105 Stand bleeding by your knee?"
"O live, O live, Lord Livingston, The space o' ae half hour; There's nae a leech in Edinbro' town But I'll bring to your door." 110
"Awa' wi' your leeches, lady," he said, "Of them I'll be the waur; There's nae a leech in Edinbro' town, That can strong death debar.
"Ye'll take the lands o' Livingston, 115 And deal them liberallie; To the auld that may not, the young that cannot, And blind that does na see; And help young maidens' marriages, That has nae gear to gie." 120
"My mother got it in a book, The first night I was born, I wou'd be wedded till a knight, And him slain on the morn.
"But I will do for my love's sake 125 What ladies woudna thole; Ere seven years shall hae an end, Nae shoe's gang on my sole.
"There's never lint gang on my head, Nor kame gang in my hair, 130 Nor ever coal nor candle light, Shine in my bower mair."
When seven years were near an end, The lady she thought lang; And wi' a crack her heart did brake, 135 And sae this ends my sang.
Buchan's _Ballads of the North of Scotland_, i. 43.
Clerk Tamas lov'd her, fair Annie, As well as Mary lov'd her son; But now he hates her, fair Annie, And hates the lands that she lives in.
"Ohon, alas!" said fair Annie, 5 "Alas! this day I fear I'll die; But I will on to sweet Tamas, And see gin he will pity me."
As Tamas lay ower his shott-window, Just as the sun was gaen down, 10 There he beheld her, fair Annie, As she came walking to the town.
"O where are a' my well-wight men, I wat that I pay meat and fee, For to lat a' my hounds gang loose, 15 To hunt this vile whore to the sea!"
The hounds they knew the lady well, And nane o' them they wou'd her bite; Save ane that is ca'd Gaudy-where, I wat he did the lady smite. 20
"O wae mat worth ye, Gaudy-where, An ill reward this is to me; For ae bit that I gae the lave, I'm very sure I've gi'en you three.
"For me, alas! there's nae remeid, 25 Here comes the day that I maun die; I ken ye lov'd your master well, And sae, alas for me, did I!"
A captain lay ower his ship window, Just as the sun was gaen down; 30 There he beheld her, fair Annie, As she was hunted frae the town.
"Gin ye'll forsake father and mither, And sae will ye your friends and kin, Gin ye'll forsake your lands sae broad, 35 Then come and I will take you in."
"Yes, I'll forsake baith father and mither, And sae will I my friends and kin, Yes, I'll forsake my lands sae broad, And come, gin ye will take me in." 40
Then a' thing gaed frae fause Tamas, And there was naething byde him wi'; Then he thought lang for Arrandella, It was fair Annie for to see.
"How do ye now, ye sweet Tamas? 45 And how gaes a' in your countrie?"
"I'll do better to you than ever I've done, Fair Annie, gin ye'll come an' see."
"O Guid forbid," said fair Annie, "That e'er the like fa' in my hand; 50 Wou'd I forsake my ain gude lord, And follow you, a gae-through-land?
"Yet nevertheless now, sweet Tamas, Ye'll drink a cup o' wine wi' me; And nine times in the live lang day, 55 Your fair claithing shall changed be."
Fair Annie pat it till her cheek, Sae did she till her milk-white chin, Sae did she till her flattering lips, But never a drap o' wine gaed in. 60
Tamas pat it till his cheek, Sae did he till his dimpled chin; He pat it till his rosy lips, And then the well o' wine gaed in.
"These pains," said he, "are ill to bide; 65 Here is the day that I maun die; O take this cup frae me, Annie, For o' the same I am weary."
"And sae was I, o' you, Tamas, When I was hunted to the sea; 70 But I'se gar bury you in state, Which is mair than ye'd done to me."