VII
‘For there is na gentlemen, nor yet pretty lads,
But a curn[1276] o’ hired widdifu’s[1277], wears belted plaids.’
VIII
Then she cry’d on her women, they quickly came ben:
‘Tak’ up your rocks, lasses, and fight a’ like men!
IX
‘Tho’ I’m but a woman, to head you I’ll try,
Nor let these vile Hielandmen steal a’ our kye.’
X
Then up gat the Baron and cry’d for his graith[1278];
Says, ‘Lady, I’ll gang, tho’ to leave you I’m laith.
XI
‘Come kiss me, my Peggie, and get me my gun;
For I well may gang out, but I’ll never win in.’