I bore his body on my back, 

 And whyles I went, and whyles I sat ; 

 I digg'd a grave and laid him in, 

 And happ'd him wi' the sod sae green. 



But think na ye my heart was sair, 

 When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair ? 

 Oh, think na ye my heart was wae, 

 When I tum'd about awa' to gae ? 



The man lives not I '11 love again. 

 Since that my comely knicht is slain ; 

 Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair 

 I 'U bind my heart for evermair. 



ANON. 



FINE FLOWERS IN THE VALLEY 



SHE sat down below a thorn. 

 Fine flowers in the valley ; 

 And there she has her sweet babe bom. 

 And the green leaves they grow rarely. 



' Smile na sae sweet, my bonny babe. 



An ye smile sae sweet, ye 'U smile me dead.' 



She 's ta'en out her little penknife, 

 And twinned the sweet babe o' its life. 



She 's howket a grave by the light o' the moon. 

 And there she 's buried her sweet babe in. 



70 



