Gin thou shoe my little black mare for me.’
14
‘The night is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,
And wi candle-light I canna weel see;
The night it is mirk, and vera pit-mirk,
And there’ll never a nail ca right for me.’
15
‘Shame fa you and your trade baith,
Canna beet a gude fallow by your mysterie!
But lees me on thee, my little black mare,