Sta' my Ewie, horn, and a':
I sought her sair upo' the morn,
And down aneath a buss o' thorn
I got my Ewie's crookit horn,
But my Ewie was awa';
I got my Ewie's crookit horn, &c.


VII.

O! gin I had the loon that did it,
Sworn I have as well as said it,
Though a' the warld should forbid it,
I wad gie his neck a thra':
I never met wi' sic a turn
As this sin' ever I was born,
My Ewie, wi' the crookit horn,
Silly Ewie, stown awa';
My Ewie wi' the crookit horn, &c.


VIII.

O! had she died o' crook or cauld,
As Ewies do when they grow auld,
It wad na been, by mony fauld,
Sae sair a heart to nane o's a':
For a' the claith that we hae worn,
Frae her and her's sae aften shorn,
The loss o' her we could hae born,