’Becca Rudd, Mary Mo’son, Ruth Lytle, an’ mair;
Thoo says it’s o’ fūn, an’ sec fūn ma’ be fair,
But it doesn’t seem jannic to me.
I favour’t the’, ey! abeùn o’ t’ lads aboot;
I thowte, like a feùl, ’at thū’d sing-elt me oot
Frae t’ tūdders, an’ I’ve been reet sarra’t, na doobt,
To trust sec a taistrel as thee.
Reet sarra’t? Ey, mess! I was warn’t gaily weel,—
I was tel’t hoo thū’d feùl’t an’ than left Greàcy Peile;
An’ what reet hed I to believe thoo wad deal