Wi' the strattlins o' their feet;
They wistna weel where they were ga'en,
Till at her father's gate.
"I hae nae money in my pocket,
But royal rings hae three;
I'll gie them you, my little young son,
And ye'll walk there for me.
"Ye'll gie the first to the proud porter,
And he will lat you in;
Ye'll gie the next to the butler boy,