They have ridden o’er moss and moor,
And they have met neither rich nor poor,
VII
Until they met with old Carl Hood:
—He’s aye for ill and never for good.
VIII
‘Earl Bran’, if ye love me,
Seize this old carl, and gar him die.’—
IX
‘O lady fair, it wad be sair
To slay an old man that has grey hair.
X
‘O lady fair, I’ll no do sae;
I’ll gie him a pound and let him gae.’