She called on her maidens her hands for to take,
An the rings on her fingers she did them a’ break:
‘Oh, Logie, Glenlogie! Oh, Logie!’ said she,
‘Gin I get na Glenlogie, I’m sure I will die.’
5
‘O hold your tongue, daughter, an weep na sae sair,
For ye’ll get Drumfindlay, his father’s young heir.’
‘O hold your tongue, father, an let me alane,
Gin I get na Glenlogie, I winna hae ane.’
6