Sir James the Rose

O Heard ye o Sir James the Rose, The young heir o Buleighan? For he has kill'd a gallant squire, Whase friends are out to tak him.

Now he has gane to the house o Mar, Whar nane might seik to find him; To see his dear he did repair, Weining she wold befreind him.

'Whar are ye gaing, Sir James,' she said, 'O whar awa are ye riding?' "I maun be bound to a foreign land, "And now I'm under hiding."

"Whar sall I gae, whar sall I rin, "Whar sall I rin to lay me? "For I ha kill'd a gallant squire, "And his friends seik to slay me."

'O gae ye doun to yon laigh house, 'I sall pay there your lawing; 'And as I am your leman trew, "I'll meet ye at the dawing.

He turnd him richt and round about And rowd him in his brechan: And laid him doun to tak a sleip, In the lawlands o Buleighan.

He was nae weil gane out o sicht, Nor was he past Milstrethen, Whan four and twenty belted knichts Cam riding owr the Leathen.

'O ha ye seen Sir James the Rose, 'The young heir o Buleighan? 'For he has kill'd a gallant squire, 'And we are sent to tak him.'

"Yea, I ha seen Sir James,' she said, "He past by here on Monday; "Gin the steed be swift than he rides on, "He's past the Hichts of Lundie."

But as wi speid they rade awa, She loudly cryd behind them; "Gin ye'll gie me a worthy meid, "I'll tell ye whar to find him."

'O tell fair maid, and, on our band, 'Ye'se get his purse and brechan.' "He's in the bank aboon the mill, "In the lawlands o Buleighan."

Than out and spak Sir John the Graham, Wha had the charge a keiping, "It's neer be said, my stalwart feres, "We killd him whan a sleiping."

They seized his braid sword and his targe, And closely him surrounded: "O pardon! mercy! gentlemen," He then fou loudly founded.

'Sic as ye gae sic ye sall hae 'Nae grace we shaw to thee can.' "Donald my man, wait till I fa, "And ye sall hae my brechan; "Ye'll get my purse thouch fou o gowd "To tak me to Loch Lagan."

Syne they tuke out his bleiding heart, And set it on a speir; Then tuke it to the house o Mar, And shawd it to his deir.

'We cold nae gie Sir James's purse 'We cold nae gie his brechan, 'But ye sall ha his bleeding heart 'Bot and his bleeding tartan.'

"Sir James the Rose, O for thy sake "My heart is now a breaking, "Curs'd be the day, I wrocht thy wae, "Thou brave heir of Buleighan!"

Then up she raise, and furth she gaes; And, in that hour o tein, She wanderd to the dowie glen, And nevir mair was sein.