And curst the hand, that fired the shot,
When in my arms burd[[A]] Helen dropt,
And died to succour me!
O think na ye my heart was sair,
When my love dropt down and spak nae mair!
There did she swoon wi' meikle care,
On fair Kirconnell Lee.
As I went down the water side,
None but my foe to be my guide.
None but my foe to be my guide,