"But she sall die, and turn to clay,
"And ye sall wed another may."
"Another may I'll never wed,
"Another may I'll never bring hame."
But, sighing, said that weary wight—
"I wish my life were at an end!"
"Yet gae ye to your mother again,
"That vile rank witch, o' rankest kind!
"And say, your ladye has a girdle,
"It is a' red gowd to the middle;