"Never a bit," says the Jew's daughter,
"Till up to me come ye."
"How will I come up? How can I come up?
How can I come to thee?
For as ye did to my auld father,
The same ye'll do to me."
gar'd, made.
She's gane till her father's garden,
And pu'd an apple, red and green;
'Twas a' to wile him, sweet Sir Hugh,