And many a poor heart she doth fill;
She’s like one of those call’d white witches,
That hurts men and means them no ill.
John Henderson, that honest weaver,
And mettled Matt Thomson the smith,
Came both from Capheaton to preave her,
And court her with courage and pith.
Ned Oliver too, and Tom Baxter
Spare neither their feet, tongue, or hands,
But strive with the rest to contract her