The peur man cries out Armyes aye,
I see that she’s noe like to mend,
She beggers me with haver and hey,
I wish her some untimous end.
Nae sooner pray’d, but as soon heard,
She touck a fawing down behind,
She wad a thousand men a scar’d,
To have felt her how she fill’d the wind.
Her master he went out at night,
Of whilk he had oft mickle need,