12.
‘Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night,
Open your gates to me;
For Clyde’s water is fu’ o’ flood,
An’ my mither’s malison’ll drown me.’
13.
‘Ane o’ my chamers is fu’ o’ corn,’ she says,
‘An’ ane is fu’ o’ hay;
Anither is fu’ o’ gentlemen,
An’ they winna move till day.’