Or he was near a mile awa’,
She heard his wild horse sneeze:
‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It’s na come to my knees.’
XXVIII
O whan he lighted at the gate,
She heard his bridle ring;
‘Mend up the fire, my false brother,
It’s far yet frae my chin.
XXIX
‘Mend up the fire to me, brother,
Mend up the fire to me;
For I see him comin’ hard an’ fast,
Will soon mend it up to thee.
XXX
‘O gin my hands had been loose, Willy,
Sae hard as they are boun’,
I would have turn’d me frae the gleed[460],
And casten out your young son.’—
XXXI
‘O I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your father an’ your mother;
An’ I’ll gar burn for you, Maisry,
Your sister an’ your brother.