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"But O! an my young babe was born,10 And set upon some nourice knee, And I mysel war dead and gane,— For a maid again I'll never be."

What ails my bairn, nourice, That he's greeting sae sair?

"O still my bairn, nourice; O still him wi' the pap!"

"O still my bairn, nourice, O still him wi' the bell!"

"O scour the bason, nourice, And mak it fair and clean, For to keep this lady's heart's blood,75 For she's come o' noble kin."