8
Wi’ sorrow ne’er had wat my cheek
For my dear Gilderoy.
Gif Gilderoy had done amiss
Ho mought hae banisht been;—
Ah, what sair cruelty is this,
To hang sic handsome men!
To hang the flower o’ Scottish land,
Sae sweet and fair a boy:—
Nae lady had sae white a hand
As thee, my Gilderoy.
Of Gilderoy sae fear’d they were,
Wi’ irons his limbs they strung;
To Edinborow led him there,
And on a gallows hung.
They hung him high aboon the rest.
He was sae bauld a boy;
There died the youth whom I loe’d best.
My handsome Gilderoy.
Sune as he yielded up his breath
I bare his corps away;
Wi’ tears, that trickled for his death,
I wash’d his comelie clay;
And siker in a grave right deep
I laid the dear lo’ed boy:
And now for ever I maun weep,
My winsome Gilderoy.
FINIS.
