An’ gi’en him strokes three,
And he has started up the bravest knight
That ever your eyes did see.
14.
She has ta’en a small horn,
An’ loud an’ shrill blew she,
An’ a’ the fish came her untill
But the proud machrel of the sea:
‘Ye shapeit me ance an unseemly shape,
An’ ye’s never mare shape me.’