The lady fair into that ha' Was comely to be seen; Her kirtle was made o' the pa', Her gowns seem'd o' the green. 30
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.
