The tikes that were baith weak and least,
They carried aw the bats away.
And they that were of the weaker sort,
They harl’d her through the paddock-peul,
They leugh, and said it was good sport,
When they had drest her like a feule.
Thus have you heard of Ecky’s mear,
How pitifully she made her end;
I write unto you far and near,
Who says her death is no well penn’d.