‘Ye that are my madins sanna take aff my goon,
Nor will I be infefted in five thousand pound;
I winnë wer goud on my head nor silk to my knee,
Nor will I forsake young Achanice.’
8
‘Ye that are her madins bring her to my bed,
The bed is made ready an the shits doun spread;
She sall lay in her bed till tuall in the day,
An sin forget him young Achanace.’
9