The Cruel Mother

She sat down below a thorn,
Fine flowers in the valley;
And there she has her sweet babe born,
and the green leaves they grow rarely.

Smile na sae sweet, my bonie babe:
And ye smile sae sweet, ye'll smile me dead.

She's ta'en out her little penknife
and twinn'd the sweet babe o' its life.

She's howket a grave by the light of the moon
And there she's buried her sweet babe in.

As she was going to the church
She saw a sweet babe in the porch.

O sweet babe and thow were mine
I wad cleed thee in silk so fine.

O mother dear, when I was thine,
Fine flowers in the valley,
You didna prove to me sae kind.
And the green leaves they grow rarely.