| Word is to the kitchen gone, and word is to the Hall
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| And word is up to Madam the Queen, and that’s the worst of all
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| That Mary Hamilton has borne a babe
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| To the highest Stuart of all
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| Oh rise, arise Mary Hamilton
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| Arise and tell to me What thou hast done with thy wee babe
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| I saw and heard weep by thee
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| I put him in a tiny boat
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| And cast him out to sea
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| That he might sink or he might swim
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| But he’d never come back to me Oh rise arise Mary Hamilton
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| Arise and come with me There is a wedding in Glasgow town
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| This night we’ll go and see
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| She put not on her robes of black
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| Nor her robes of brown
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| But she put on her robes of white
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| To ride into Glasgow town
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| And as she rode into Glasgow town
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| The city for to see
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| The bailiff’s wife and the provost’s wife
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| Cried Alack and alas for thee
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| You need not weep for me she cried
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| You need not week for me For had I not slain my own wee babe
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| This death I would not dee
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| Oh little did my mother think
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| When first she cradled me The lands I was to travel in And the death I was to dee
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| Last night I washed the Queen’s feet
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| And put the gold in her hair
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| And the only reward I find for this
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| The gallows to be my share
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| Cast off cast off my gown she cried
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| But let my petticoat be And tie a napkin round my face
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| The gallows I would not see
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| Then by them come the king himself
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| Looked up with a pitiful eye
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| Come down come down Mary Hamillton
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| Tonight you will dine with me Oh hold your tongue my sovereign liege
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| And let your folly be For if you’d a mind to save my life
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| You’d never have shamed me here
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| Last night there were four marys
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| tonight there’ll be but three
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| It was Mary Beaton and Mary Seton
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| And Mary Carmichael and me. |