To keep his body down.

Then up and spake the little bird,
Says, "What needs a' this din?
It was Lady Catherine took his life,
And hided him in the linn."

She sware her by the sun and moon,
She sware by grass and corn,
She hadna seen him, young Redin,
Since Monanday at morn.

"It's surely been my bower-woman,--
O ill may her betide!
I ne'er wad hae slain my young Redin,
And thrown him in the Clyde."

Now they hae cut baith fern and thorn,
The bower-woman to brin;
And they hae made a big balefire,
And put this maiden in;
But the fire it took na on her cheek,
It took na on her chin.

Out they hae ta'en the bower-woman,
And put her mistress in;
The flame took fast upon her cheek,
Took fast upon her chin,
Took fast upon her fair bodie,
Because of her deadly sin.