“Now, Jock, ma billie,” quo’ a’ the three,
  “The day is com’d thou was to dee. 
  But thou’s as weel at thy ain ingle-side,
  Now sitting, I think ’twixt thou and me.”

  BARTHRAM’S DIRGE.

  They shot him dead at the Nine-stane Rig,
  Beside the Headless Cross,
  And they left him lying in his blood,
  Upon the moor and moss.

  They made a bier of the broken bough
  The sauch and the aspin grey,
  And they bore him to the Lady Chapel,
  And waked him there all day.

  A lady came to that lonely bower,
  And threw her robes aside;
  She tore her ling lang yellow hair,
  And knelt at Barthram’s side.

  She bathed him in the Lady-Well,
  His wounds sae deep and sair;
  And she plaited a garland for his breast,
  And a garland for his hair.

  They rowed him in a lily sheet
  And bare him to his earth;
  And the Grey Friars sung the dead man’s mass
  As they passed the Chapel garth.

  They buried him at the mirk midnight,
  When the dew fell cold and still,
  When the aspin grey forgot to play,
  And the mist clung to the hill.

  They dug his grave but a bare foot deep,
  By the edge of the Nine-stane Burn,
  And they covered him o’er with the heather-flower,
  The moss and the lady-fern.

  A Grey Friar staid upon the grave,
  And sang till the morning tide;
  And a friar shall sing for Barthram’s soul
  While the Headless Cross shall bide.

  THE FAIR FLOWER OF NORTHUMBERLAND

  It was a knight in Scotland born,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  Was taken pris’ner and left forlorn,
  Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

  Then was he cast in prison strong,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  Where he could not walk nor lie along,
  Even by the good Earl of Northumberland.

  And as in sorrow thus he lay,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  The Earl’s sweet daughter passed that way,
  And she the fair flower of Northumberland.

  And passing by, like an angel bright,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  The prisoner had of her a sight,
  And she the fair flower of Northumberland.

  And aloud to her this knight did cry,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  The salt tears standing in her eye,
  And she the fair flower of Northumberland.

  “Fair lady,” he said, “take pity on me,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  And let me not in prison dee,
  And you the fair flower of Northumberland.”

  “Fair sir, how should I take pity on thee,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  Thou being a foe to our countrie,
  And I the fair flower of Northumberland?”

  “Fair lady, I am no foe,” he said,
  (Follow, my love, come over the strand)
  “Through thy sweet love here was I stayed,
  And thou the fair flower of Northumberland.”