Till skin in blypes cam haurlin' shreds, peeling

Aff's nieves that night. Off his fists

A wanton widow Leezie was,

As cantie as a kittlin; lively

But och! that night, amang the shaws, woods

She gat a fearfu' settlin'!

She thro' the whins, an' by the cairn, gorse, stone heap

An' owre the hill gaed scrievin'; careering

Where three laird's lands met at a burn,[17]

To dip her left sark-sleeve in, shirt-