Lamkin

It’s Lamkin was a mason goodAs ever built wi’ stane;He built Lord Wearie’s castle,But payment got he nane.

‘O pay me, Lord Wearie,Come, pay to me my fee.’--‘I canna pay you, Lamkin,For I maun gang o’er the sea.’--

‘O pay me now, Lord Wearie,Come, pay me out o’ hand.’--‘I canna pay you, Lamkin,Unless I sell my land.’--

‘O gin ye winna pay me,I here sall mak’ a vowBefore that ye come hame again,Ye sall hae cause to rue.’

Lord Wearie got a bonny ship,To sail the saut sea faem;Bade his lady weel the castle keep,Ay till he should come hame.

‘Gae bar the doors,’ the lady said,‘Gae well the windows pin;And what care I for LamkinOr any of his gang?’

But the nourice was a fause limmerAs e’er hung on a tree;She laid a plot wi’ Lamkin,Whan her lord was o’er the sea.

She laid a plot wi’ Lamkin,When the servants were awa’,Loot him in at a little shot-window,And brought him to the ha’.

‘O whare’s a’ the men o’ this house,That ca’ me the Lamkin?’--‘They’re at the barn-well thrashing;’Twill be lang ere they come in.’--

‘And whare’s the women o’ this house,That ca’ me the Lamkin?’--‘They’re at the far well washing;’Twill be lang ere they come in.’--

‘And whare’s the bairns o’ this house,That ca’ me the Lamkin?’--‘They’re at the school reading;’Twill be night or they come hame.’--

‘O whare’s the lady o’ this house,That ca’s me the Lamkin?’--‘She’s up in her bower sewing,But we soon can bring her down.’

Then Lamkin’s tane a sharp knife,That hung down by his gare,And he has gi’en the bonny babeA deep wound and a sair.

Then Lamkin he rockèd,And the fause nourice sang,Till frae ilka bore o’ the cradleThe red blood out sprang.

Then out it spak’ the lady,As she stood on the stair:‘What ails my bairn, nourice,That he’s greeting sae sair?

‘O still my bairn, nourice,O still him wi’ the pap!’--‘He winna still, lady,For this nor for that.’--

‘O still my bairn, nourice,O still him wi’ the wand!’--‘He winna still, lady,For a’ his father’s land.’--

‘O still my bairn, nourice,O still him wi’ the bell!’--‘He winna still, lady,Till ye come down yoursel’.’--

O the firsten step she steppit,She steppit on a stane;But the neisten step she steppit,She met him Lamkin.

‘O mercy, mercy, Lamkin,Hae mercy upon me!Though you hae ta’en my young son’s life,Ye may let mysel’ be.’--

‘O sall I kill her, nourice,Or sall I lat her be?’--‘O kill her, kill her, Lamkin,For she ne’er was good to me.’--

‘O scour the bason, nourice,And mak’ it fair and clean,For to keep this lady’s heart’s blood,For she’s come o’ noble kin.’--

‘There need nae bason, Lamkin,Lat it run through the floor;What better is the heart’s bloodO’ the rich than o’ the poor?’

But ere three months were at an end,Lord Wearie came again;But dowie, dowie was his heartWhen first he came hame.

‘O wha’s blood is this,’ he says,‘That lies in the cham’er?’--‘It is your lady’s heart’s blood;’Tis as clear as the lamer.’--

‘And wha’s blood is this,’ he says,‘That lies in my ha’?’--‘It is your young son’s heart’s blood;’Tis the clearest ava’.’

O sweetly sang the black-birdThat sat upon the tree;But sairer grat Lamkin,When he was condemn’d to dee.

And bonny sang the mavisOut o’ the thorny brake;But sairer grat the nourice,When she was tied to the stake.