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The Mudcat Cafesj

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It's Lamkin was a mason good
As ever built wi' stane,
He built Lord Wearie's castle
But payment he got nane.

But the nourice was a fause limmer
As e'er hung on a tree;
She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,
Whan her lord was o'er the sea.

She laid a plot wi' Lamkin,
When the servants were awa'
Loot him in at a little shot-window
And brought him to the ha'.

"Oh whare's the lady o' this house
That ca's me Lamkin?"
"She's up in her bower sewing
But we soon can bring her down.

Then Lamkin's ta'en a sharp knife
That hung down by his gair
And he has gien the bonny babe
A deep wound and a sair.

Then Lamkin he rocked,
And the fause nourice sang
Till frae ilka bore o' the cradle
The red blood out sprang.

"Oh still my bairn, nourice,
Oh still him wi' the pap!"
"He winna still, lady,
For this nor for that."

"Oh still my bairn, nourice,
Oh still him wi' the bell!"
"He winna still, lady,
Till ye come down yoursel."

Oh the firsten step she steppit
She steppit on a stane;
But the neisten step she steppit
She met him --- Lamkin.

"Oh sall I kill her, nourice,
Or sall I lat her be?"
"Oh kill her, kill her, Lamkin'
For she ne'er was good to me."

"Oh scour the bason, nourice,
And mak' it fair and clean,
For to keep this lady's heart's blood,
For she's come o' noble kin."

"There need nae bason, Lamkin,
Lat it run through the floor;
What better is the heart's blood
O' the rich than o' the poor?"

But ere three months were at an end,
Lord Wearie came again;
"Oh, wha's blood is this" he says,
"That lies in my hame?"

"Oh, wha's blood," says Lord Wearie,
"Is this on my ha'?"
"It is your young son's heart's blood,
It's the clearest ava'."

Oh sweetly sang the blackbird
That sat upon the tree;
But sairer grat Lannkin,
When he was condemned to dee.

And bonny sang the mavis,
Oot o'the thorny brake;
But sairer grat the nourice,
When she was burnt at the stake.

From THe Scottish Folksinger, Buchan and Hall
Child #93
@Scottish @murder @baby
filename[ BOLAMKN2

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