4
Now she is gone with him in spite of them a’,
Away to a place where her eyes never saw;
He had no steed for to carry her on,
But still he said lassie think not the road long.
In a warm summer’s evening they came to a glen,
Being wearied with travel the lassie sat down:
Get up my brave lassie let us step on,
For the sun will go down before we get home.
My feet are all torn my shoes are all rent,
I’m wearied with travel and just like to faint,
Were it not for the sake of your kind company,
I would lie in the desert until that I die.
The day is far spent and the night’s coming on,
And step you aside to yon mill-town,
And there you’ll ask lodgings for thee and for me,
For glad would I be in a barn for to be.
The place it is pleasant and bonny indeed,
But the people are hard-hearted to us that’s in need,
Perhaps they’ll not grant us their barn nor byre,
But I’ll go and ask them as it is your desire.
The lassie went foremost sure I was to blame,
To ask for a lodging myself I thought shame;
The lassie replied with tears not a few,
It’s ill ale, said she, that’s sour when it’s new.
In a short time thereafter they came to a grove,
Where his flocks they were feeding in numberless droves,
Allan stood musing his flocks for to see,
Step on, says the lady, that’s no pleasure to me.
