Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, Hitherto Unpublished, Vol. 2 - Peter Buchan

Excerpt from Ancient Ballads and Songs of the North of Scotland, Hitherto Unpublished, Vol. 2: With Explanatory Notes
When nine months were near an end,
And eight months they were gone;
The lady's cheeks wi' tears were wet,
And thus she made her moan: -
What shall I say, my love, Archibald,
This day for you and me?
I will be laid in cauld irons,
And ye'll be hanged on tree.
What aileth my love Clementina?
What gars you mourn sae sair?
You know, said she, I'm with child to thee,
These eight lang months and mair.
Will ye gae to my mother's bower,
Stands on yon stately green?
Or will ye gae to the gude greenwood,
Where ye will not be seen?

I winna gang to your mother's bower,
Stands on yon stately green;
But I will on to gude greenwood,
For I will not be seen.
He's girt his sword down by his side,
Took his lady by the hand;
And they are on thro' gude greenwood,
As fast as they could gang.
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