Then up gat the baron, and cry’d for his graith;
Says, Lady, I’ll gang, tho to leave you I’m laith.
9
‘Come, kiss me, my Peggie, nor think I’m to blame;
For I may well gang out, but I’ll never win in.’
10
When the Baron of Braikly rade through the close,
A gallanter baron neer mounted a horse.
11
Tho there came wi Inverey thirty and three,