"Late late yestreen I saw the new moon
Wi' the auld moon in her arm;
And I fear, I fear, my dear master,
That we will come to harm."
O our Scots nobles were right loath
To wet their cork-heeled shoon;
But lang erè a the play were playd,
Their hats they swam aboon.
O lang, lang, may their ladies sit
Wi' their fans into their hand,