Lady Morton was sitting in her chamber, up high, Combing her locks, as she did everyday. Young Edward, her servant, stood out in the hall, Dreaming of Agnes and their wedding day. 'Oh Edward, oh Edward, won't you tarry wi' me, Out in the green woods, doon by the loch side?' 'No, no, Lady Morton, I'll no gan wi' ye! I've a lass o' my ain and I'll mak her my bride!' She answered him back, wi' a glint in her e'ee: 'Don't be foolish young man, don't you turn against me, For I'll tell ma guid man the advances were yours And he'll lock you away, when he's hame frae the moors!' Well, the lady o' the castle tae her husband did go. Poor Edward was sentenced to a life doon below In the torturous chambers he'd starve til he died, But still lady Morton's requests he denied! Then with pity and shame, she returned to his side And fed him, in secret, for to keep him alive. She begged wi' his Agnes tae plead wi' the Earl To give Edward his freedom and be wed wi' his girl. But on hearing her words the Earl's anger grew And the people of Morton, they all came to view. As by both hands and feet, poor Edward was bound And tied tae the wildest pair o' colts to be found. They galloped awa wi' their eyes filled wi' fear On the lang and rugged road that leads tae Durisdeer. Poor Edward was dragged until he was dead And now a stone marks the spot, where off fell his head.