It is not for your silver bright,
But for your winsome lady.
“And by my word! the bonny bird
In danger shall not tarry;
So though the waves are [raging white]
I’ll row you o’er the ferry.”
By this the storm [grew loud apace],
The water-wraith was shrieking;
And [in the scowl of Heaven] each face
Grew dark as they were speaking.