An' we might as well ha' stent. "Many's the time we built the tower, Wi' the grey stone and the brown. But aye the floods in autumn Washed all the building down. "And in my mind I see the morn When we'll be brought to dee-- Yoursel' and your seven brothers, And your young mother, and me. "And oh, were it any but Armour, Oh God, were it any but she-- Before the Lord, my eyes grow dark With the ill sight that I see." Among the busy mason-men, Are building at the tower, There's a swarthy gipsy mason, A lean man and a dour. He's lain the hammer down at last Out of his bony hand... "Did ye never hear the spell, St Maur, Gars any tower to stand?" "O what's the spell, thou black gipsy, I prithee rede it now: There never was any mason-man Shall earn such wage as thou." "I dared not speak the spell, St Maur, Lest you should do me an ill, For a cruel spell, and an evil spell, Is the spell that works your will." "There's no spell but I'll risk it, man, An' the price were half my lands-- To keep my wife and children safe Out of Lord Armour's hands." "O, more than lands, and more than fee, You'll pay me for the spell----" "An' the price were half my heart's red blood, I'd pay it down as well." "O what's the blood of a sinful heart To bind the stones that fall? St Maur, you'll build your christened child Alive into the wall." St Maur has turned on his heel so light, And angry he turns away: "Gang to the devil another time When ye ask what ye ask to-day." He's ta'en his young son by the hand-- He's opened wide the gate, "Your mother's been sick a month by now, And she'll mourn sore if we're late." They had not gone a little way, An' the child began to call-- "See how the flood runs high, father, And washes at the wall!" They had not gone a mickle way, St Maur began to brood, "'Tis the bugle cry of Armour, Shrill over stream and wood." "And must they slay me, father dear, And my seven brothers tall?" "Gin that's the blast of Armour, laddie, I fear they'll slay us all," "And will they slay my mother, then, That looks so bonny and small?" "Come back, come back, thou little lad To the masons at the wall." The flood runs high and still more high, And washes stone from stone-- "In another hour," say the masons, "Our work is all undone." The flood runs high and still more high, And the bugle rings anear; The masons looking o'er the wall Are blue and stark with fear. There's one that's neither stark nor wan, But never he looked so well; "Shall I gang to the devil, St Maur?" he cries, "Or say, shall I gang to yoursel'?" He's set the child high in the air Upon his shoulder bone; "Shall I leave them all for Armour,