At the voice o this lovely may.
7
‘O well may you sing, my well-far’d maid,
And well may you sing, I say,
For this is a mirk and a misty night,
And I’ve ridden out o my way.’
8
‘Ride on, ride on, young man,’ she said,
‘Ride on the way ye ken;
But keep frae the streams o the Rock-river,