That was atween thir twae.

And they lay still and sleepit sound
Until the day began to daw;
And kindly she to him did say,
"It is time, true love, you were awa'."

But he lay still and sleepit sound,
Albeit the sun began to sheen;
She looked between her and the wa',
And dull and drowsie were his een.

Then in and came her father dear;
Said, "Let a' your mourning be;
I'll carry the dead corpse to the clay,
And I'll come back and comfort thee."

"Comfort weel your seven sons,
For comforted I will never be:
I trow 'twas neither knave nor loon
Was in the bower last night wi' me."

The clinking bell gaed through the town,
And carried the dead corpse to the clay.
Young Saunders stood at may Margaret's window,
I wot, an hour before the day.

"Are ye sleeping, Margaret?" he says,
"Or are you waking presentlie?
Give me my faith and troth again,