17.  “The wildest wolf as in a’ this wood
Wad not ha’ done so by me;
She’d ha’ wet her foot i’ the wan water,
And sprinkled it o’er my brae,
And if that wad not ha’ waken’d me,
She wad ha’ gone and let me be.”

18.  “O bows of yew, if ye be true,
In London, where ye were bought,
Fingers five, get up belive[71],
Manhuid shall fail me nought.”

19.  He has kill’d the Seven Forsters,
He has kill’d them all but ane,
And that wan scarce to Pickeram Side,
To carry the bode-words hame.

20.  “Is there never a [bird] in a’ this wood
That will tell what I can say;
That will go to Cockleys Well,
Tell my mither to fetch me away?”

21.  There was a [bird] into that wood,
That carried the tidings away,
And many ae[72] was the well-wight man
At the fetching o’ Johnie away.

[Footnote 61:  Rose.]

[Footnote 62:  Prepare.]

[Footnote 63:  Ready.]

[Footnote 64:  Has fallen ill with anxiety.]

[Footnote 65:  Bush of whin, furze.]

     [Footnote 66:  Leaped.]

     [Footnote 67:  Quarter—­the fourth part of a yard.]

     [Footnote 68:  “But and”—­as well as.]

     [Footnote 69:  Bear, endure.]

     [Footnote 70:  Make, cause.]

     [Footnote 71:  Quickly.]

     [Footnote 72:  One.]

     SIR PATRICK SPENS

     1.  The king sits in Dumferling toune,
          Drinking the blude-reid wine: 
        “O whar will I get guid sailor,
          To sail this ship of mine?”

     2.  Up and spak an eldern knight,
          Sat at the kings right kne: 
        “Sir Patrick Spens is the best sailor,
          That sails upon the sea.”

     3.  The king has written a braid letter[73],
          And sign’d it wi’ his hand,
        And sent it to Sir Patrick Spens,
          Was walking on the sand.

     4.  The first line that Sir Patrick read,
          A loud laugh laughed he;
        The next line that Sir Patrick read,
          The tear blinded his ee.

     5.  “O wha is this has done this deed,
          This ill deed done to me,
        To send me out this time o’ the year,
          To sail upon the sea!”

     6.  “Make haste, make haste, my mirry men all,
          Our guide ship sails the morne:” 
        “O say na sae, my master dear,
          For I fear a deadlie storme.”

     7.  “Late, late yestreen I saw the new moone[74],
          Wi’ the auld moone in hir arme,
        And I fear, I fear, my dear master,
          That we will come to harme”

     8.  O our Scots nobles were right laith
          To weet their cork-heeled shoone;
        But lang owre a’ the play wer play’d,
          Their hats they swam aboone.