Sir Robert has left his castle ha',
The castle of fair Holmylee,
And gone to meet his Ailie Faa,
Where no one might be there to see.
He has sounded shrill his bugle horn,
But not for either horse or hound;
And when the echoes away were borne,
He listened for a well-known sound.

He hears a rustling among the leaves,
Some pattering feet are drawing near;
Like autumn's breathings among the sheaves,
So sweet at eventide to hear:
His Ailie Faa, who is sweeter far
Than the white rose hanging upon the tree,
Who is fairer than the fairies are
That dance in moonlight on the lea.

Oh! there are some flowers, as if in love,
Unto the oak their arms incline;
And tho' the tree may rotten prove,
They still the closer around it twine:
So has it been until this hour,
And so in coming time 'twill be,
Wherever young love may hang a flower,
'Twill think it aye ane trusty tree.

He has led her into a summer bower,
For he was fond and she was fain,
And there with all of a lover's power