Frowned the Laird on the Lord: "So, red-handed I catch thee?
Death-doomed by our Law of the Border!
We 've a gallows outside and a chiel to dispatch thee:
Who trespasses—hangs: all 's in order."
He met frown with smile, did the young English gallant:
Then the Laird's dame: "Nay, Husband, I beg!
He 's comely: be merciful! Grace for the callant
—If he marries our Muckle-mouth Meg!"
"No mile-wide-mouthed monster of yours do I marry:
Grant rather the gallows!" laughed he.