A hearty laugh leuch he;
But ere he read it till an end
The tear blinded his ee.
O wha is this, or what is that,
Has stown my love frae me?
Although he were my ae brither,
An ill dead sall he die.
281. Gae saddle to me the black, he says.
282,3. Gae.
291. He’s called upon his merry.