And twal’ and twal’ wi’ beer and wine,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ muskadine:
V
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ bouted[69] flour,
And twal’ and twal’ wi’ paramour[70].
VI
Sweet Willy was a Widow’s son,
And at her stirrup he did run.
VII
And she was clad in the finest pall[71],
But aye she let the tears down fall.
VIII
‘O lady, sits your saddle awry?
Or is your steed for you owre high?