"Mak haste, mak haste, my mirry men all,
Our guid schip sails the morne."
"O say na sae, my master deir,
Fir I feir a deadlie storme.
"Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone
Wi' the auld moone in hir arme,
And I feir, I feir, my deir master,
That we will cum to harme."
O our Scots nobles wer richt laith[169]
To weet[170] their cork-heil'd schoone;