There's scarce a sound in the wall by now
A mother might not hear.
"Gang home, gang home in peace, St Maur,
And sleep sound if you can;
There's never a flood shall rock this tower,
And never a mortal man.
"Gang home and kiss your bonny wife,
And bid her mourn and fast...
She'll weep a year for her youngest child,
But she'll dry her eyes at last.