Then out and spak' an auld witch-wife,
By the fire-side sate she.

Says,--"Drap the het lead on her cheek,
And drap it on her chin,
And drap it on her rose-red lips,
And she will speak again;
O meikle will a maiden do,
To her true love to win!"

They drapt the het lead on her cheek,
They drapt it on her chin,
They drapt it on her rose-red lips,
But breath was nane within.

Then up arose her seven brothers,
And made for her a bier;
The boards were of the cedar wood,
The plates o' silver clear.

And up arose her seven sisters,
And made for her a sark;
The claith of it was satin fine,
The steeking silken wark.

The first Scots kirk that they cam' to,
They gar'd the bells be rung;
The neist Scots kirk that they cam' to,
They gar'd the mass be sung.