The red, red drops o' my bonny heart's blood
Rin trinkling down my knee?
trinkling, trickling.
"But take thy harp into thy hand,
And harp out ower yon plain,
And ne'er think mair on thy true love
Than if she had never been."
He hadna weel been out o' the stable,
And on his saddle set,
Till four-and-twenty broad arrows