Binnorie

There were twa sisters liv'd in a bouir; Binnorie, O Binnorie! Their father was a baron of pouir, By the bonnie mildams of Binnorie. The youngest was meek, and fair as the May, Whan she springs in the east wi the gowden day: The eldest austern as the winter cauld, Ferce was her saul, and her seiming was bauld. A gallant squire cam sweet Isabel to wooe; Her sister had naething to luve I trow; But filld was she wi dolour and ire, To see that to her the comlie squire Preferd the debonair Isabel: Their hevin of luve of spyte was her hell. Till ae ein she to her sister can say "Sweit sister cum let us wauk and play." They wauked up, and they wauked down, Sweit sang the birdis in the vallie loun! Whan they cam to the roaring lin, She drave unweiting Isabel in. 'O sister! sister! tak my hand, 'And ye fall hae my silver fan; 'O sister! sister! tak my middle, 'And ye fall hae my gowden girdle.' Sumtimes she sank, sumtimes she swam, Till she cam to the miller's dam: The miller's dochter was out that ein And saw her rowing down the streim. "O father deir! in your mill dam "There is either a lady or a milk white swan!" Twa days were gane whan to her deir Her wraith at deid of nicht cold apeir: 'My luve, my deir, how can ye sleip, 'Whan your Isabel lyes in the deep? 'My deir, how can ye sleip bot pain, 'Whan she by her cruel sister is slain?' Up raise he sune in frichtfu mude, 'Busk ye my meiny and seik the flude.' They socht her up and they socht her doun, And spyd at last her glisterin gown: They rais'd her wi richt meikle care; Pale was her cheik, and grein was her hair! 'Gae, saddle to me my swiftest steid, 'Her fere, by my sae, for her dethe fall bleid.' A page cam rinning out owr the lie, "O heavie tiding I bring!" quoth he, "My luvely lady is far awa gane, "We weit the fairy hae her tane; "Her sister gaed wood wi dule and rage, "Nocht cold we do her mind to suage. "O Isabel! my sister!" she wold cry, 'For thee will I weip, for thee will I die!" "Till late yestreene in an elric hour "She lap frae aft the hichest touir"— 'Now sleip she in peace!' quoth the gallant Squire, 'Her dethe was the maist that I cold require: 'But I'll main for the my Isabel deir, 'Binnorie, O Binnorie! 'Full mony a dreiry dyy, bot weir, 'By the bonnie mildams of Binnorie.'