“One hour she smilèd, the next she wept
(Oh! the bright Tweed is bonny to see!)
And with frowns and blushes a chain she kept
Round the necks of her hapless lovers three.
For the lord in her lap poured wide his gold,
And the shepherd ran at her beck and call,
And the spearsman swore she was curst and cold,
But Pride, it goeth before a fall.
“At last it fell out on a bleak March day
(Oh! the bright Tweed is bonny to see!)