Ancient Scottish ballads, recovered from tradition, and never before ...

Ill
: A dish of sma' fishes:—mither, mak my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
'Whare gat ye the fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
Whare gat ye the fishes, my jollie young man?"
'In my father's black ditches:—mither, mak my
bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
"What like were your fishes, Lord Donald, my son?
What like were your fishes, myjollie young man?"
"Black backs and spreckl'd bellies:—mither, mak
my bed sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."
" O I fear ye are poison'd, Lord Donald, my son !
O I fear ye are poison'd, my jollie young man !"
"O yes! I am poison'd:—mither, mak my bed
sune,
For I'm sick at the heart, and I fain wad lie doun."