O THE broom, and the bonnie, bonnie broom,
And the broom o' the Cowdenknowes!
And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang
I' the ewe-bucht, milking the ewes.

The hills were high on ilka side,
And the bucht i' the lirk o' the hill,
And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang,
Out ower the head o' yon hill.

There was a troop o' gentlemen
Cam' riding merrilie by,
And ane o' them has rade out o' the way,
To the bucht to the bonnie May.

“Weel may ye save an' see, bonnie lass,
An' weel may ye save an' see.”
“An' sae wi' you, ye weel-bred knicht,
An' what's your will wi' me?”

“The nicht is misty and mirk, fair May,
And I hae ridden astray.
And will ye be sae kind, fair May,
As come out and point my way?”

“Ride on, ride on, ye ramp rider,
Your steed's baith stout and strang;
For out of the bucht I daurna come,
For fear that ye do me wrang.”

“O winna ye pity me, bonnie lass?
O winna ye pity me?
And winna ye pity my poor steed,
Stands trembling at yon tree?”

“I wadna pity your poor steed,
Tho' it were tied to a thorn;
For if you would gain my love the nicht,
Ye wad slicht me ere the morn.

“For I ken ye by your weel-buskit hat,
And your merry twinkling e'e,
That ye're the laird o' the Oakland hills,
An' ye may weel seem for to be.”

“O I'm not the laird o' the Oakland hills,
Ye're far mista'en o' me;
But I'm ane o' the men about his house,
And richt aft in his companie.”

He's ta'en her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He's laid her doun by the ewe-bucht wa',
And speired at her sma' leave.

O he's ta'en out a purse o' gowd,
And streeked her yellow hair;
“Now, tak' ye that, my bonnie, bonnie May,
O' me till ye hear mair.”

Then he lap on his berry brown steed
And he rade after his men,
And ane an' a' cried out to him,
“O, master, ye've tarried lang!”

“O I've been east, an' I've been west,
And I've been far ower the knowes,
But the bonniest lass that ever I saw,
Is i' the bucht milking the ewes.”

She's ta'en her milk-pail on her head,
And she's gane singing hame;
“O whaur hae ye been, my a'e dochter?
Ye hae na been your lane.”

“O naebody was wi' me, father,
O naebody has been wi' me;
The nicht is misty and mirk, father,
Ye may gang to the door an' see.

“But wae be to your ewe-herd, father,
And an ill death may ye dee;
He loves the bucht at the back o' the knowe,
And a tod has frichted me.

“There cam' a tod to the ewe-bucht door,
The like I never saw,
And ere he had taken the lamb he did,
I had loured he had ta'en them a'.”

When twenty weeks were come an' gane,
Twenty weeks an' three,
The lassie begoud to look thin an' pale,
And thought lang for his twinkling e'e.

It fell on a day, on a het summer day,
She was ca'in' out her kye,
She spied a troop o' gentlemen,
A' merrillie riding bye.

“Weel may ye save an' see, bonnie May,
Weel may ye save an' see,
I wat ye be a very bonnie May,
But wha's aucht that babe ye are wi'?”

Never a word did the lassie say,
For never a ane could she blame,
And never a word did the lassie say,
But, “I hae a gudeman at hame.”

“Ye lee, ye lee, my weel-faured May,
Sae loud as I hear ye lee;
For dinna you mind yon misty nicht
I was in the bucht wi' thee.

“I ken you by your middle sae jimp,
And your merrie twinkling e'e,
Ye're the bonnie lass o' the Cowdenknowes,
And ye may weel seem to be.”

He's lichted aff his berry brown steed,
And he's set that fair May on:
“Ca' out your kye, gude father, yoursel',
I'll ne'er ca' them out again.”

“It's I am the laird o' the Oakland hills,
I hae thirty ploughs an' three,
And I hae gotten the bonniest May
That's in a' the south countrie.”