Traditional Scottish Folk
Sheath and Knife (Roud 3960; Child 16)
There was a sister and her brither
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
Wha maist entirely loved each other
God, gif we had never been sib
Sister, we'll gang tae the broom
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
O sister, I would lay thee doon
God, gif we had never been sib
Brither, alas, would ye dae sae?
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
I sooner would my deith gang taе
God, gif we had never been sib
A' thе folk they talk through ither
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
That the lass is wi' bairn to her brither
God, gif we had never been sib
O, brither ye hae done me ill
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
And we will baith burn on yon hill
God, gif we had never been sib
Ye'll gang tae my faither's stable
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
And tak' twa horses stout and able
God, gif we had never been sib
She's up on the white horse, he's on the black
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
Wi' his yew-tree bow slung fast tae his back
God, gif we had never been sib
They hadnae rode a mile but ane
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
E'er her pains they did come on
God, gif we had never been sib
I would gie a' my faither's land
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
For a good midwife at my command
God, gif we had never been sib
Ye'll gang tae yon high high hill
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
And tak' your how and arrows wi' ye
God, gif we had never been sib
When ye hear my loud, loud cry
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
Then bend your bow and let me die
God, gif we had never been sib
He's gane tae yon hill sae high
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
He bent his bow and let her die
God, gif we had never been sib
When he cam' tae her beside;
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
The babe was born, the lady deid
God, gif we had never been sib
Then he has ta'en his young, young son
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
And borne him tae a milk-woman
God, gif we had never been sib
He's gien himsel' a wound fu' sair
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
Well never gang to the broom nae mair
God, gif we had never been sib
O mither, I hae tint my knife;
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
I lo'ed it better than my life
God, gif we had never been sib
But I hae tint a better thing
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
The bonnie sheath my knife was in
God, gif we had never been sib
Is there no' a cutler intae Fife
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
That could mak' to thee a better knife?
God, gif we had never been sib
There's no' a cutler in a' the land
The sun gaes tae oot owre the wood
That could mak' sic a knife tae my command
God, gif we had never been sib