"Gin that's the blast of Armour, laddie,
I fear they'll slay us all,"
"And will they slay my mother, then,
That looks so bonny and small?"
"Come back, come back, thou little lad
To the masons at the wall."
The flood runs high and still more high,
And washes stone from stone—
"In another hour," say the masons,
"Our work is all undone."