He tirled at the pin.
‘Open your gates, Meggie,
Open your gates to me,
For my beets are fu’ o’ Clyde’s water,
And the rain rains oure my chin.’
11.
‘I hae nae lovers therout,’ she says,
‘I hae nae love within;
My true-love is in my arms twa,
An’ nane will I lat in.’