Betsy Bell And Mary Gray

They were bonny lasses

They bigget a bower on yon burnside

And theekit it o'er wi' rashes.

They theekit it o'er wi' rashes green

They theekit it o'er wi' heather

But the plague came from the burrows-town

And it slew them baith thegither.

They would not have their shoes of red

Nor would they have them yellow

But they would have their shoes of green

To ride through the streets of Yarrow.

They thought to lye in Methren Kirk yard

Among their noble kin

But they were laid in Stronach Hall

All art beneath the sun.

Betsy Bell and Mary Gray

They were bonny lasses

They bigget a bower on yon burnside

And theekit it o'er wi' rashes.