an
"That ye make a' this din,
"She stood a' last night at your door,
"But I trow she wanna in."

"O wae betide ye, ill woman!
"An ill deid may ye die!
"That wadna open the door to her,
"Nor yet wad waken me."

O he's gane down to yon shore side
As fast as he could fare;
He saw fair Annie in the boat,
But the wind it tossed her sair.

"And hey Annie, and how Annie!
"O Annie, winna ye bide!"
But ay the mair he cried Annie,
The braider grew the tide.

"And hey Annie, and how Annie!
"Dear Annie, speak to me!"
But ay the louder he cried Annie,
The louder roared the sea.

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
And dashed the boat on shore;
Fair Annie floated through the faem,
But the babie raise no more.

Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair,
And made a heavy moan;
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,
Her bonny young son was gone.

O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
And gowden was her hair;
But clay-cold were her rosy lips--
Nae spark o' life was there.

And first he kissed her cherry cheek,
And syne he kissed her chin,
And syne he kissed her rosy lips--
There was nae breath within.

"O wae betide my cruel mother!
"An ill death may she die!
"She turned my true love frae my door,
"Wha came sae far to me.

"O wae betide my cruel mother!
"An ill death may she die!
"She turned fair Annie frae my door,
"Wha died for love o' me."

[Footnote A: _Tows_--Ropes.]

[Footnote B: _Jawing_--Dashing.]

ROSE THE RED AND WHITE LILLY.

NEVER BEFORE PUBLISHED.

_This legendary Tale is given chiefly from Mrs_ BROWN'S _MS.
Accordingly, many of the rhymes arise from the Northern mode of
pronunciation; as_ dee _for_ do, _and the like.--Perhaps the Ballad may
have originally related to the history of the celebrated_ ROBIN HOOD;
_as mention is made of Barnisdale, his favourite abode._

O Rose the Red, and White Lilly,
Their mother deir was dead:
And their father has married an ill woman,
Wished them twa little guid.

But she had twa as gallant sons
As ever brake man's bread;
And the tane o' them lo'ed her, White Lilly,
And the tother Rose the Red.

O bigged hae they a bigly bour,
Fast by the roaring strand;
And there was mair mirth in the ladyes' bour,
Nor in a' their father's land.

But out and spake their step-mother,
As she stood a little foreb