"Shame fa' you and your trade baith,
Canna beet[[188]] a gude fellow by your myster[[189]]
But leez me on thee, my little black mare,
Thou's worth thy weight in gold to me."
There was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching upon the lee;
Until they cam to Dumfries port,
And they lighted there right speedilie.
"There's five of us will hold the horse,
And other five will watchmen be: