"Ha, take this sark o' silk, lady,
Your ain hand sew'd the gare;
You're bidden come to good green wood,
Love Johnny waits you there."
She's turned her right and round about
The tear was in her ee:
"How can I come to my true-love
Except I had wings to flee?
"Here am I kept wi' bars and bolts,
Most grievous to behold;