if my love loves me, she lets me not know
this is a dowie chance
I wish that I the same could do
though my love were in France
but I will write a broad letter
and write it so perfite
that if she will not of me rue
I'll bid her come to my lyke
and when she looked the letter on
a light laugh then ga'e she
but ere she read it to an end
a tear blinded her e'e
o saddle to me a steed, father
o saddle to me a steed
for word has come to me this night
that my true love is dead
the steeds are in the stable, daughter
the keys are casten by
you cannot win the night, daughter
the morn you'd better away
she's cutten off her yellow locks
a little above her e'e
and she is on to Willie's lyke
as fast as go could she
as she went over yon high hill head
she saw a dowie light
it was the candles at Willie's lyke
and the torches burning bright
three of Willie's eldest brothers
were making for him a bier
one half of it was good red gold
the other silver clear
three of Willie's older sisters
were making for him a sark
the one half of it was cambric fine
the other was needle work
out spoke the youngest of the sisters
as she stood on the fleer
how happy would our brother have been
if you'd been sooner here
she lifted up the green covering
and gave him kisses three
then he looked up into her face
the blythe blink in his e'e
o then he started to his feet
and thus to her said he
fair Annie since we've met again
parted no more we'll be

INVIA LE CORREZIONI