Page:Poems and ballads, third series (IA poemsballadsthir00swin).pdf/178

 But when they came by Chollerford, I wot the ways were fell; For broad and brown the spate swang down, And the lift was mirk as hell. In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

'And will ye ride yon fell water, Or will ye bide for fear? Nae scathe ye'll win o' your father's kin, Though they should slay me here.' In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.

'I had liefer ride yon fell water, Though strange it be to ride, Than I wad stand on the fair green strand And thou be slain beside.' In, in, out and in, Blaws the wind and whirls the whin.