Then out and spak his auld mother,
And fast her tears did fa'—
"Ye wad nae be warned, my son Johnie,
"Frae the hunting to bide awa.
"Aft hae I brought to Breadislee,
"The less gear[[D]] and the mair,
"But I ne'er brought to Breadislee,
"What grieved my heart sae sair!
"But wae betyde that silly auld carle!
"An ill death shall he die!