‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass,
‘Our mear has gotten a waly foal.’
14
‘Ye clatter, ye clatter, ye servant-lass,
It is the moon shines in your ee;’
‘By my sooth,’ quoth the servant-lass,
‘It’s mair than ever her ain will be.’
16
It’s whan the stable-groom awoke,
Put a’ the nobles in a fear;