‘Ye busk ye, my dother,
Ye busk ye unco fine,
An I ill gai doun to yon shore-side
An invite yon squer to dine:
I wad gie a’ my reants
To haa ye marrëd to him.’
28
‘They ar farr awa fra me,’ she says,
‘The’r far ayont the sea,
That has my heart an hand,