4
Now she is gone with him in spite of them a’,
Away to a place that 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 weary’d with travel, the lassie sat down;
Get up, my brave lassie, let us step on,
For the sun will go round before we get home.
My feet is all torn, my shoes are all rent,
I’m wearied with travel, and just like for to faint;
Were it not for the sake of your kind company;
I would lie in the desart until that I die.
The day is far spent, and the night coming on,
And step you aside to yon bonny mill-town,
And there you'll ask lodging for thee and for me,
For glad would I be in a barn to be.
The place it is bonny and pleasant indeed,
Bur the people is 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.
