The Elphin Nourrice

I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An' a cow low down in yon glen; Lang, lang will my young son greet, Or his mither bid him come ben. I heard a cow low, a bonnie cow low, An' a cow low down in yon fauld; Lang, lang will my young son greet, Or is mither take him frae cauld. Waken, Queen of Elfan, An hear your Nourrice moan. O moan ye for your meat, Or moan ye for your fee, Or moan ye for the ither bounties That ladies are wont to gie? I moan na for my meat, Nor yet for my fee, But I mourn for Christened land-- It's there I fain would be. O nurse my bairn, Nourice, she says, Till he stan' at your knee, An' ye's win hame to Christen land, Whar fain it's ye wad be. O keep my bairn, Nourice, Till he gang by the hauld, An' ye's win hame to your young son, Ye left in four nights auld.