A Collection of Ballads. Andrew Lang

taen her mantle her about,

       Her coffer by the hand,

       And she’s gane out to seek her son,

       And wandered o’er the land.

      She’s doen her to the Jew’s castell,

       Where a’ were fast asleep:

       “Gin ye be there, my sweet Sir Hugh,

       I pray you to me speak.”

      “Gae hame, gae hame, my mither dear,

       Prepare my winding-sheet,

       And at the back o merry Lincoln

       The morn I will you meet.”

      Now Lady Maisry is gane hame,

       Make him a winding-sheet,

       And at the back o merry Lincoln,

       The dead corpse did her meet.

      And a the bells o merry Lincoln

       Without men’s hands were rung,

       And a’ the books o merry Lincoln

       Were read without man’s tongue,

       And neer was such a burial

       Sin Adam’s days begun.