Francis James Child

“ Is i the bought, milkin the ewes.'
She set the cog upon her head,
An she's gane singing hame:
'O where hae ye been, my ae daughter?
Ye hae na been your lane.'
'O nae body was wi me, father,
O nae body has been wi me;
The night is misty and mirk, father,
Ye may gang to the door and see. ”

“ And weary will ye be,
Or ye get your dochter again
. . .
He was the laird o Ochiltree,
Of therty ploughs and three,
And he has stown awa the loveliest may
In aw the south cuntree.
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O BONNIE May is to the yowe-buchts gane,
For to milk her daddie's yowes,
And ay she sang, and her voice it rang
Out-ower the tap o the knows, knows, knowes,
Out-owr the tap o the knowes. ”

“ And see such a weety and a windy night;
There were nobody wi me.
'But wae be to your herd, father,
And an ill death may he die!
For he left the ewes strayed owre the knowes,
And he left naebody wi me. ”

“ To milk her father's ewes,
An aye as she milked her bonny voice rang
Far out amang the knowes.
* * * *
'Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may,
Milk on, milk on,' said he;
'Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may;
Will ye shew me out-ower the lea?'
'Ride on, ride on, stout rider,' she said,
'Yere steed's baith stout and strang;
For out o the eww-bught I daurna come,
For fear ye do me wrang.'
But he's tane her by the milk-white hand,
An by the green gown-sleeve,
An he's laid her low on the dewy grass,
An at nae ane spiered he leave. ”

“ The ewes war skippin oure the knowes,
They wad na bucht in for me.
'But wae be to your shepherd, father,
An ill death may he dee!
He bigget the buchts sae far frae the toun,
And he trysted a man to me. ”

“ For monie a time she cawit her faither's kye,
But she'll neir caw them again.
'For I am the laird o Ochiltree Wawis,
I hae threttie pleuchs and thrie,
And I hae tane awa the bonniest lass
That is in a' the north countrie.'
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THERE was a may, and a bonnie may,
In the bught, milking the ewes,
And by came a troop of gentlemen,
And they rode by and by. ”

“ And aye sae sweet as the bonny lassie sang,
That ever she milked the ewes.
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O THERE war a troop o merry gentlemen
Cam riding oure the knowes,
And they hear the voice o a bonny lass,
In the bichts, milking the yowes. ”