"A' your fowls, and a' your roosts,
I value not a pin;
I only care for May Margaret;
And ere night to her bower I'll win."

"O an ye gang to May Margaret
Sae sair against my will,
In the deepest pot o' Clyde's water
My malison ye's feel!"

He mounted on his coal-black steed,
And fast he rade awa';
But ere he came to Clyde's water
Fu' loud the wind did blaw.

As he rade over yon hie hie hill,
And doun yon dowie den,
There was a roar in Clyde's water
Wad feared a hundred men.

But Willie has swam through Clyde's water,
Though it was wide and deep;
And he came to May Margaret's door
When a' were fast asleep.

O he's gane round and round about,
And tirled at the pin,
But doors were steeked and windows barred,
And nane to let him in.