And ever mair shall be;
I’ll nae forsake young Hazelgreen
For a’ the gowd ye’ll gie.’
And aye she sighd, and said, Alas!
And made a piteous meen,
And aye she loot the tears down fa
For John o Hazelgreen.
12
‘Now hold your tongue, my well-fard maid,
Lat a’ your mourning be,