‘My mare is young and very skeigh,
And in o the weil she will drown me;’
‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine,
And sune through the water we sall be.’
Then up and spak him coarse Ca’field
(I wot and little gude worth was he):
‘We had better lose ane than lose a’ the lave;
We’ll lose the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’
‘Shame fa you and your lands baith!
Wad ye een your lands to your born billy?