Aye, and an angry woman was shee;
“Ye might have excepted our bonny bride,
And twa or three of our companie.”
“O hold your tongue, thou bride’s mother,
Of all your folly let me be;
She’s ten times fairer nor the bride,
And all that’s in your companie.
“She begs one sheave of your white bread,
But and a cup of your red wine;
And to remember the lady’s love,