The blude ran down by Cowden bank
And down by Cowden brae,
But aye she gar’d the trumpet sound
‘It’s a’ fair play!’
XVIII
‘My blessing on your heart, sweet thing!
Wae to your wilfu’ will!
Sae mony a gallant gentleman’s blood
This day as ye’ve gar’d spill.’
XIX
But a’ you lords of fair England,
If you be English born,
Come never to Scotland to seek a wife
Or else ye’ll get the scorn.
XX
They’ll haik ye up[543], and settle ye by[544],
Until your weddin’-day;
Then gie ye frogs instead o’ fish,
And do ye foul, foul play.
FOOTNOTES:
[539] weel-far’d = well-favoured.
[540] lave = rest.