But her hair is like the thread o gowd,
Aye an it waur weel kaimëd doun.’
2
She’s pued the black mask owre her face,
An blinkit gaily wi her ee:
‘O will you to my weddin come,
An will you bear me gude companie?’
3
‘I winna to your weddin come,
Nor [will] I bear you gude companie,