A' for the love o' young Logie.
"Lament, lament na, May Margaret,
And of your weeping let me be;
For ye maun to the king himsel',
To seek the life o' young Logie."
May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,
And she has curl'd back her yellow hair,—
"If I canna get young Logie's life,
Farewell to Scotland for evermair."
When she came before the king,