XXVI
‘Will ye tell me, ye little wee boy,
Where may my Margaret be?’—
‘She’s just now standing at your yates,
And my six brithers her wi’.’—
XXVII
‘O where are a’ my porter-boys
That I pay meat and fee,
To open my yates baith wide and braid,
Let her come in to me?’
XXVIII
When she cam’ in before the King,
Fell low down on her knee:
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—
XXIX
‘Ae bit I canna eat, father,
Nor ae drop can I drink,
Until I see my mither dear,
For lang for her I think.’
XXX
When she cam’ in before the queen,
Fell low down on her knee;
‘Win up, win up, my daughter dear,
This day ye’se dine wi’ me.’—