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Here may ye se that, if that a womman were not good, and hir counseil good and profytable, oure Lord God of heven would neither have wrought hem, ne called hem help of man, but rather confusion of man.

"Ye are my jewel, and only ane,85 Nane's do you injury; For ere this-day-month come and gang, My wedded wife ye'se be."

A smile frae me ye'se never win;25 I'll ne'er look kind on thee; Ye've stown me awa frae a' my kin, Frae a' that's dear to me.

If ye ne'er be shot till I shoot you, Ye'se ne'er be shot for me.

O ladie can ye fancy me,5 For to be my bride; Ye'se get a' the flowers in my garden, To be to you a weed.