Then Arthur took his bugle-horn,
An blew a blast sae shrill;
Sweet Willy started at the sound,
An ran him quickly till.

“O wanted ye your meat, Willy? 
Or wanted ye your fee? 
Or gat ye ever an angry word,
That ye ran awa frae me?”

“I wanted nought, my master dear;
To me ye ay was good;
I came but to see my ae brother,
That wons in this green wood.”

Then out it spake the king again,
Says, “Bonny boy, tell to me,
Wha lives into yon bigly bowr,
Stands by yon green oak tree?”

“Oh, pardon me,” says Sweet Willie,
“My liege, I dare no tell;
An I pray you go no near that bowr,
For fear they do you fell.”

“Oh, haud your tongue, my bonny boy,
For I winna be said nay;
But I will gang that bowr within,
Betide me weal or wae.”

They’ve lighted off their milk-white steeds,
An saftly enterd in,
And there they saw her White Lilly,
Nursing her bonny young son.

“Now, by the rood,” the king coud say,
“This is a comely sight;
I trow, instead of a forrester’s man,
This is a lady bright!”

Then out it spake her, Rose the Red,
An fell low down on her knee: 
“Oh, pardon us, my gracious liege,
An our story I’ll tell thee.

“Our father was a wealthy lord,
That wond in Barnsdale;
But we had a wicked step-mother,
That wrought us meickle bale.

“Yet she had twa as fu fair sons
As ever the sun did see,
An the tane of them lood my sister dear,
An the tother said he lood me.”

Then out it spake him Bold Arthur,
As by the king he stood: 
“Now, by the faith o my body,
This shoud be Rose the Red!”

Then in it came him Brown Robin,
Frae hunting O the deer;
But whan he saw the king was there,
He started back for fear.

The king has taen him by the hand,
An bide him naithing dread;
Says, “Ye maun leave the good greenwood,
Come to the court wi speed.”

Then up he took White Lilly’s son,
An set him on his knee;
Says—­“Gin ye live to wield a bran,
My bowman ye sall bee.”

The king he sent for robes of green,
An girdles o shinning gold;
He gart the ladies be arrayd
Most comely to behold.

They’ve done them unto Mary kirk,
An there gat fair wedding,
An fan the news spread oer the lan,
For joy the bells did ring.

Then out it spake her Rose the Red,
An a hearty laugh laugh she: 
“I wonder what would our step-dame say,
Gin she his sight did see!”

Ballad:  The Battle Of Harlaw—­Evergreen Version

(Child, vol. vii.  Early Edition, Appendix.)

Frae Dunidier as I cam throuch,
Doun by the hill of Banochie,
Allangst the lands of Garioch. 
Grit pitie was to heir and se
The noys and dulesum hermonie,
That evir that dreiry day did daw! 
Cryand the corynoch on hie,
Alas! alas! for the Harlaw.