17 He dung the boord up wi his fit, Sae did he wi his tae; The silver cup that sat upon't I the fire he gard it flee: 'O what na a lord in a' Scotland Dare marry my Maisdrey?' 18 'O 't is but a feeble thought To tell the tane and not the tither; O 't is but a feeble thought To tell't is your mither's brither.' 19 ''T is I wull send to that wadding, And I wul follow syne, The fitches o the fallow deer An the gammons o the swine, An the nine hides o the noble cow; 'T was slain in season time. 20 ''T is I wul send to that wadding Ten ton of the red wyne; Much more I'll send to that wadding, An I wul follow syne.' 21 When he came in unto the ha, Lady Maisdrey she did ween, And twenty times he kist her mou Before Auld Ingram's een. 22 Nor to the kirk she wud ne gae, Nor til't she wudn ride, Till four and twunty men she gat her before, An twunty on ilka side, An four and twunty milk-white dows To flee aboon her head. 23 A loud laughter gae Lord Wayets Mang the mids o his men: 'Marry the lady wham they weel, A maiden she is nane.' 24 'O laugh ye at my men, Wayets? Or di ye laugh at me? Or laugh ye at the beerly bride, That's gane to marry me?' 25 'I laugh na at your men, uncle, Nor yet dive I at thee, Bit I laugh at my lands sae braid, Sae weel's I do them see.' 26 Whan ene was cume, and ene-bells rung, An a' man gane to bed, The bride bit and the silly bridegroom In chambers they were laid. 27 Was na it a fell thing for to see, Twa heads lye on a coad, Lady Maisdrey like the moten goud, Auld Ingram like a toad? 28 He turnd his face unto the stock, And sound he fell asleep; She turnd her fair face unto the wa, An sa't tears she did weep. 29 It fell about the mark midnight, Auld Ingram began to turn him; He pat his hands on's lady's sides, An waly, sair was she murnin. 30 'What aileth thee, my lady dear? Ever alas and wae's me, There is a baube betwixt thy sides! O sae sair's it grieves me.' 31 'Didn I tell ye that, Auld Ingram, Or ye saught me to wed, That Lord Wayets, your sister's son, Had been into my bed?' 32 'O father that bairn on me, Maisdrey, O father it on me, An ye sall hae a rigland shire Your mornin's gift to bee.' 33 'O sarbit,' says the Lady Maisdrey, 'That ever the like me befa, To father my bairn on Auld Ingram, Lord Wayets in my father's ha! 34 'O sarbit,' says the Lady Maisdrey, 'That ever the like me betide, To father my bairn on Auld Ingram, An Lord Wayets beside!' D Kinloch MSS, V, 323, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.