6 She's went to her father's stable, She's stown a steed baith wight and able, To carry them on to fair Scotland.
7 They rode till they came to a muir, He bade her light aff, they'd call her a whore, If she didna return to Northumberland.
8 They rode till they came to a moss, He bade her light aff her father's best horse, And return her again to Northumberland.
9 'I'm sure I have no need of thee, When I have a wife and bairns three, That lives at home in fair Scotland.'
10 'I'll be cook in your kitchen, And serve your lady handsomelie, For I darena gae back to Northumberland.'
11 'Ye cannot be cook in my kitchen, My lady cannot fa sic servants as thee, So ye'll return again to Northumberland.'
12 When she went thro her father's ha, She looted her low amongst them a', She was the fair flower o Northumberland.
13 Out spake her father, he spake bold, 'How could ye be a whore in fifteen years old, And you the flower of Northumberland?'
14 Out spake her mother, she spake wi a smile, 'She's nae the first his coat did beguile, Ye're welcome again to Northumberland.'
1 She's gane down to her father's stable, O my dear, and my love that she wan She's taen out a black steed baith sturdy and able, And she's away to fair Scotland.
2 When they came to Scotland bridge, 'Light off, you whore, from my black steed, And go your ways back to Northumberland.'
3 'O take me by the body so meek, And throw me in the water so deep, For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.'
4 'I'll no take thee by the body so meek, Nor throw thee in the water so deep; Thou may go thy ways back to Northumberland.'
5 'Take me by the body so small, And throw me in yon bonny mill-dam, For I daurna gae back to Northumberland.'
"Written down from memory by Robert Hutton, Shepherd, Peel, Liddesdale." Mr R. White's papers.
1 A bailiff's fair daughter, she lived by the Aln, A young maid's love is easily won She heard a poor prisoner making his moan, And she was the flower of Northumberland.
2 'If ye could love me, as I do love thee, A young maid's love is hard to win I'll make you a lady of high degree, When once we go down to fair Scotland.'
3 To think of the prisoner her heart was sore, A young maid's love is easily won Her love it was much, but her pity was more, And she, etc.
