When I laid the moul' on his yellow hair;
O think na ye my heart was wae,
When I turn'd about, away to gae?
"Nae living man I'll love again,
Since that my lovely knight is slain,
Wi' ae lock of his yellow hair
I'll chain my heart for evermair."
Just by Henderland is Coppercleuch, (called Cappercleuch in my boyhood,) and below it, Megget, flowing into the loch—a troutful stream, at least in earlier days. Pike used to bask in the shallows here of a hot summer's day; perhaps even yet they do so. But I think these fish are more numerous now in the Loch of the Lowes than in St. Mary's.
