Who’ll buy cal-ler her-rin’? They’re new come fra Loch fine. Come
friends sup-port the fish-er’s trade. Wha still in yer’ll earns his bread. While
’round our coast aft tem-pest tost. He drags for cal-ler her-rin’. They’re
bon-nie fish, and dain-ty fa-ring. Buy my cal-ler her-rin’. They’re
new come frae Loch-flae. Who’ll buy my cal-ler her-rin’. There’s
nought wi’ them will stand com-par-ing. E’en they hae like dia-monds. Their
sides like sil-ver shine. Cal-ler her-rin’, Cal-ler her-rin’
At one o’clock the Fishers’ Hall was dark and still, and the echo of a tender little laugh or song from some couple, who had taken the longest way round for the nearest way home, was all that remained of the mirth and melody of the evening. Angus and Christine sauntered slowly through the village. The young man was then passionately importunate in the protestations of his love. He wooed Christine with all the honeyed words that men have used to the Beloved Woman, since the creation. And Christine listened and was happy.
At length, however, he was obliged to tell her news he had delayed as long as it was possible.