For he was seeking his bonny ladye.
5
O he has ridden oer field and fell,
Through muir and moss, and mony a mire;
His spurs o steel were sair to bide,
And frae her fore-feet flew the fire.
6
‘Now, bonny grey, now play your part!
Gin ye be the steed that wins my deary,
Wi corn and hay ye’se be fed for aye,