The third Scots kirk that they cam' to,
They dealt the gowd for her;
The fourth Scots kirk that they cam' to,
Her true-love met them there.

"Set down, set down the bier," he quoth,
Till I look on the dead;
The last time that I saw her face,
Her cheeks were rosy red."

He rent the sheet upon her face,
A little abune the chin;
And fast he saw her colour come,
And sweet she smiled on him.

"O give me a chive of your bread, my love,
And ae drap o' your wine;
For I have fasted for your sake,
These weary lang days nine!

"Gae hame, gae hame, my seven brothers;
Gae hame an' blaw your horn!
I trow ye wad hae gi'en me the skaith,
But I've gi'ed you the scorn.

"I cam' not here to fair Scotland,
To lie amang the dead;
But I cam' here to fair Scotland,
Wi' my ain true-love to wed."