.   .   .   .   .   .   .   .’

37

He turned him rond about,

An suitly could he smill;

She turned her round, says, My love Willie,

Hou could ye me biggeall?

38

‘A prist, a prist,’ the old man crayed,

‘Latt this tua marrëd be:’

Bat lettel did the old man keen