“Your gloves shall be o’ the green clover,
All glitterin to your hand;
Weil spread ower wi’ the blue blawort
That grows among corn-land.
“Your stockings shall be o’ the cabbage-leaf,
That is baith braid and lang;
Narrow, narrow at the kute,[[11]]
And braid, braid at the braune.[A*]
“Your shoon shall be o’ the gude rue red,
I trow it bodes nae ill;