‘It’s for nae honour ye did, Brown Robyn,
It’s for nae gude ye did to me;
But a’ is for your fair confession
You’ve made upon the sea.’
FOOTNOTES:
[199] kevels = lots.
[22. The Cruel Mother]
I
She lean’d her back unto a thorn;
Fine flowers in the valley
And there she has her two babes born,
And the green leaves they grow rarely.
II
She’s ta’en the ribbon frae her hair,
And bound their bodies fast and sair.