My gude lord’s vessel I might spy.
6
‘My lord he stood upon the deck,
I wyte he haild me courteouslie:
Ye are thrice welcome, my lady gay,
Whae’s aught that bairn on your knee?’
7
She turnd her right and round about,
Says, ‘Why take ye sic dreads o me?
Alas! I was too young married,