Wi' anither mak me a king."
"I canna mak ye a king," quo' he,
"The Lord alane can do that;
I snowk leise-majesty, my man!
Quhat the Sathan wad ye be at?"
Glowert at the skipper the doutsum king,
Jalousin' aneth his croon;
Quo' the skipper, "Here is yer grace's ring—
An' yer dochter is my boon."
The black blude shot intil the king's face—