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'Oh! help!—Oh! help!—If man ye be
Have on a woman ruth—
The waters gather round my head
And gurgle in my mouth!'
'Turn round and round, fell Margaret,
Turn round and look on me—
The pity that ye schawed yestreen
I'll fairly schaw to thee!
'Thy girdle-knife was keen and bricht—
The ribbons wondrous fine—
'Tween every knot o' them ye knit
Of kisses I had nine!
'Fond Margaret! Fause Margaret!
You kissed me cheek and chin—
Yet, when I slept, that girdle-knife
You sheathed my heart's blude in!
'Fause Margaret! Lewde Margaret!
The nicht ye bide wi' me—
The body, under trust, you slew,
My spirit weds wi' thee!'
