The rowin ‘t in her apron

OUR young lady ‘s a huntin gane,
Sheets nor blankets has she ta’en,
But she ‘s born her auld son or she cam hame,
And she ‘s row’d him in her apron.----

Her apron was o’ the hollan fine,
Laid about wi laces nine;
And she thought it a pity her babie should tyne,
And she ‘s row’d him in her apron.----

Her apron was on the hollan sma,
Laid about wi laces a’,
She thought it a pity her babe to let fa,
And she row’d him in her apron.------

To her chamber she did hie,
Lest her mother should she spy;
Till loud her sweet babie began for to cry,
Weel row’t up in her apron.

Her father says within the ha,
Amang the knights and nobles a,
I think I hear a babie ca,
In the chamber amang our young ladies.

O father dear it is a bairn,
I hope it will do you nae harm,
For the dadie I lo’ed, and he’ll lo’e me again,
For the rowin ‘t in my apron.--------
It smiles sae sweet as it lies in my arm,
Weel row’t up in my apron.

O is he a gentleman, or is he a clown,
He is the toss of Edinborrow town,
And he’ll buy me a braw new gown
For the rown ‘t in my apron.--

Its I hae castles, I hae towers,
I hae barns, I hae bowers,
A’ that is mine it shall be thine,
For the rowin ‘t in thy apron

I hae bow’rs and castles fine,
All that is mine it shall be thine;
For the game it was guid an’ we’ll try it again,
An’ we’ll row’t once more I’ your apron.