Page:Rob Roy Macgregor.pdf/7

 These fourteen weeks and longer.

I'm going with child to thee,

So stay at home dear Billy,

be kind and marry me.

If I should stay at home, my dear,

another would take my place,

It would be a shame to me, love,

besides a sad disgrace:

The King he's wanting men, my dear,

and I for one must go,

And for my very life, love,

I must not answer no.

Well, I'll cut off my yellow hair,

man's clothes I will put on,

And I will go along with you,

to be your waiting man:

Like a true and faithful servant,

I on my love will wait,

No storm nor danger will I fear,

let it be e'er so great.

Your waist it is too slender,

your fingers are too small,

I fear you will not answer me,

when I do on you call,

When cannons they do rattle,

and bullets they do fly,

And silver trumpets sounding,

to drown the dreadful cry.