“Master,” quoth the auld hound
“Where will ye go?”
“Over moss, over muir,
To court my new jo.”
“Master, though the night be merk,
I'se follow through the snow.
“Court her, master, court her,
So shall ye do weel;
But and ben she'll guide the house,
I'se get milk and meal.
Ye'se get lilting while she sits
With her rock and reel.”
“For, oh! she has a sweet tongue,
And een that look down,
A gold girdle for her waist,
And a purple gown.
She has a good word forbye
Fra a’ folk in the town.”