Francis James Child

“ Your wedded lord is dead,' she says,
'And just gane to be buried the day.
'Ye'se get nane o his gowd, ye'se get nane o his gear,
Ye'se get nae thing frae me;
Ye'se na get an inch o his gude broad land,
Tho your heart suld burst in three.'
'I want nane o his gowd, I want nane o his gear,
I want nae land frae thee ”

“ And fain would I it see.'
'That ring thou cannot see, Mary Florence,
That ring thou'll never see;
For death was so strong in Lord Robert's breast
That the gold ring burst in three.'
She has set her foot unto a stone,
Her back unto a tree;
Before she left Knotingale Castle
Her heart it brak in three.
D
PRINCE ROBERT he has wedded a wife,
An he daurna bring her hame;
The queen . . . .
His mither was much to blame.
* * * *
'It is the fashion in oor countrie, mither,
I dinna ken what it is here,
To like your wife better than your mither,
That . . . ”