XXIII
He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side,
But and his collar bane;
He’s flung him twa-fald owre his steed,
Bade him carry the tidings hame....
XXIV
‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest
Will do as mickle for me
As dip its wing in the wan water
And straik it on my e’e-bree?
XXV
‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest
Can sing as I can say,—
Can flee away to my mother’s bower
And tell to fetch Johnnie away?’
XXVI
The starling flew to her window-stane,
It whistled and it sang;
And aye the owre-word o’ the tune
Was, Johnnie tarries lang!
XXVII
They made a rod o’ the hazel-bush,
Another o’ the slae-thorn tree,
And mony, mony were the men
At the fetching our Johnnie.