I heard a cow low,a bonnie cow low,An'a cow low down in yon glen;Lang,lang will my young son greet,Or his mither bid him come ben.
I heard a cow low,a bonnie cow low,An'a cow low down in yon fauld;Lang,lang will my young son greet,Or is mither take him frae cauld.
Waken,Queen of Elfan,An hear your Nourrice moan.
O moan ye for your meat,Or moan ye for your fee,Or moan ye for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie?
I moan na for my meat,Nor yet for my fee,But I mourn for Christened land-It's there I fain would be.
O nurse my bairn,Nourice,she says,Till he stan'at your knee,An'ye's win hame to Christen land,Whar fain it's ye wad be.
O keep my bairn,Nourice,Till he gang by the hauld,An'ye's win hame to your young son,Ye left in four nights auld.
