* * * * *


WILLIE AND MAY MARGARET.

Willie stands in his stable,
A-clapping of his steed;
And over his white fingers
His nose began to bleed.

"Gie corn to my horse, mither;
Gie meat unto my man;
For I maun gang to Margaret's bower,
Before the night comes on."

"O stay at home, my son Willie!
The wind blaws cold and stour;
The night will be baith mirk and late,
Before ye reach her bower."

"O tho' the night were ever sae dark,
O the wind blew never sae cauld,
I will be in May Margaret's bower
Before twa hours be tauld."

"O bide this night wi' me, Willie,
O bide this night wi' me!
The bestan fowl in a' the roost
At your supper, my son, shall be."