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O had she died o' crook or cauld,
As ewies do when they are auld,
It wadna been by mony fauld,
Sae sair a heart to ane o's a'.
As ewies do when they are auld,
It wadna been by mony fauld,
Sae sair a heart to ane o's a'.
For a' the claith that we hae worn,
Frae her and her's sae aften shorn,
The loss o' her I could hae borne,
Had fair strae death taen her awa.
Frae her and her's sae aften shorn,
The loss o' her I could hae borne,
Had fair strae death taen her awa.
But thus poor thing to lose her life,
Aneath a greedy villain's knife,
I'm really fear'd that our gudewife,
Shall never win about ava.
Aneath a greedy villain's knife,
I'm really fear'd that our gudewife,
Shall never win about ava.
O all ye bards beneath Kinghorn,
Call your muses up and mourn,
Our ewie wi the crooked horn,
Is stown frae us and felled an a'.
Call your muses up and mourn,
Our ewie wi the crooked horn,
Is stown frae us and felled an a'.
SHE LIVES IN THE VALLEY BELOW.
The broom bloomed so fresh and so fair,
The lambkins were sporting around,
When I wandered to breathe the fresh air,
And by chance a rich treasure I found,
A lass sat beneath a green shade,
For whose smiles the world I'll forego;
As blooming as May was the maid,
And she lives in the valley, she lives in the valley, the valley below.
The lambkins were sporting around,
When I wandered to breathe the fresh air,
And by chance a rich treasure I found,
A lass sat beneath a green shade,
For whose smiles the world I'll forego;
As blooming as May was the maid,
And she lives in the valley, she lives in the valley, the valley below.
