For quhan ever a Herryes he chows his gluve,
It’s ane earnest o’ deidlye feud!”
That myrthsome band they tynte theyre myrthe,
The gude wyne tynte its power,
An’ ilke man glower’t at his neebour’s face
Wi’ a glum an’ eerye glower.
The Herryes he lootyt his heid to the board,
I’ sorrowe but an’ shame;
The lawin’ was ca’t—ilk took tille his horse,