DCXXV.
Shake a leg, wag a leg, when will you gang?
At midsummer, mother, when the days are lang.
DCXXVI.
Willy boy, Willy boy, where are you going?
I'll go with you, if I may.
I'm going to the meadow to see them a mowing,
I'm going to help them make hay.
DCXXVII.
To market, to market, a gallop, a trot,