. . . . . . .
7
‘O Salton’s a valley lies low by the sea;
Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee,
Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee,
The bonny rigs of Salton they’re nae thrawin tee.’
8
‘O you that are my parents to church may me bring,
But unto young Salton I’ll never bear a son;
For son or for daughter, I’ll ne’er bow my knee,