She threw her in ower Craigy's sea.
Says, "Lie you there, dove Isabel,
And all my sorrows lie with thee;
Till Kemp Owyne come ower the sea,
And borrow you with kisses three,
Let all the world do what they will,
Oh borrowed shall you never be."
Her breath grew strang, her hair grew lang,
And twisted thrice about the tree,
And all the people, far and near,