I hate him now with the hate of hell,
Though before I loved him passing well,
(And I moan and I cry, Woe's me!)
Anonymous.
BALLAD
THE auld wife sat at her ivied door
(Butter and eggs and a pound of cheese),
A thing she had frequently done before,
And her spectacles lay on her apron'd knees.
The piper he piped on the hill-top high