3
"O little d’ye ken, my father dear,
This leal Lord’s love for me;
He's won my heart, and he’s sought my hand,
And his bride I have sworn to be."
And the Earl so loved this lowly maid,
That he gave her his lordly hand,
And made her mistress of all his castles,
And lady of all his land.
And time ran on till a year had gone,
But never, by night or day,
Was the gallant Leslie absent from
The side of his Mary Hay.
The noblemen round might look askance,
Their ladies might scoff and sneer;
His Mary was all the world to him,
And he to her was as dear.
Till town and country, high and low,
The truth must needs declare,
That never, in palace, castle, or cot,
Had been witnessed a happier pair.
But it fell on a day, a sweet summer’s day,
That there came, with white foam o’er,
A steed with a royal messenger,
And this was the message he bore;
"Boot ye! Spur ye! noble Earl—
Go saddle your steed and ride!
For the English loons, with fire and sword,
Have crossed the border side.
"And need have we of our bravest knights,
And need of their stoutest men,
And stouter or braver than you, Lord Earl,
There’s none in our royal ken."
When Mary heard this message read,
Her cheeks grew pale and wan,
But when she saw her Leslie’s steed
The tears in torrents ran.
"O, let me gang, my Leslie dear,
Your perils all to share?
I’ll run a foot page by your side,
The battle field I’ll dare.
