Ye'll ken her by the red, red cheek
When ye name the name o' me.-
"That cheek should lain on this breast-bane,
Her hame should been my ha';
Our tree is bow'd—our flower is dow'd—
Sir Arthur's an outlaw!"
He sighed, an' turned him right about,
Where the sea lay braid an' wide:
It's no to see his boony boat,
But a watery cheek to hide.