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

79
And word is to the king himsel,
Amang his nobles^,'.
O word is to the king himsel,
And an angry man was he;
" I will put her in cold prison,
— —
And hunger her till she die."
The ladie was laid in cold prison,
By the king a grievous man;
And up and starts a little boy
Upon her window stane.
" Here is a silken shift ladie,
Your ane hand sew'd the sleeve,
—
And ye maun gang to yon greenwud,
Of your friends spier* na leave."
" O my boiler is very high,
It's weel wall'd round about,
My feet are lock'd in iron fetters,
And how can I get out
* Spier—ask.
!