"O what will ye give my son to eat,
⁠Red rose leaves will never make wine?"
"Fen-water and adder's meat,
⁠The ways are sair fra' the Till to the Tyne."

"Or what will ye get my son to wear,
⁠Red rose leaves will never make wine?"
"A weed and a web of nettle's hair,
⁠The ways are sair fra' the Till to the Tyne."

"Or what will ye take to line his bed,
⁠Red rose leaves will never make wine?"
"Two black stones at the kirkwall's head,
⁠The ways are sair fra' the Till to the Tyne."

"Or what will ye give my son for land,
⁠Red rose leaves will never make wine?"
"Three girl's paces of red sand,
⁠The ways are sair fra' the Till to the Tyne."

"Or what will ye give me for my son,
⁠Red rose leaves will never make wine?"
"Six times to kiss his young mouth on,
⁠The ways are sair fra' the Till to the Tyne."

"But what have ye done with the bearing-bread,
⁠And what have ye made of the washing-wine?
Or where have ye made your bearing-bed,
⁠To bear a son in the sides of Tyne?"