“O goodman,” quo’ his pitying dame,
“Ye could not do this thing;
For lifting a pickle o’ your nowt,
So brave a lad to hing!”
“What mercy did ever a Scott o’ them
E’er show to me or mine?
The reaving Scotts shall surely weep,
The last of all their line.”
She said, “But we have daughters three,
And they are no well-faured,