‘Ther is a prist nou att the dore, just ready to come in,
An never one could say he was born,
For ther was a holl cut out of his mother’s side, an out of it he did faa;
An we’s baith lay in ae bed, an ye’s lay nist the waa.’
a.
18
Littel kent the lassie in the morning fan she raise
That wad be the last of a’ her maiden days;
For nou she is marrëd to Captian Wederburn, that afore she never saa,
An they baith lay in ae bed, an she lays nest the waa.