Some rip’d her ribs, some pluck’d her face,
Nae bit of her was to be seen;
Sir Ingram Corby in that place,
Himself he pick’d out baith her eyne.
But wait ye what an a chance befel,
When they were at this jolly chear,
Sir William Bark, I can you tell,
He unexpected lighted there.
Put aw the feasters in sike a fear,
Some hopt away, some flew aside,