“ Than that of the sternest anchorite,
⁠That can naething but graen and pray?
Where Bothwell's bridge connects the margin steep,
And Clyde, below, runs silent, strong, and deep,
The hardy peasant by oppression driven,
To battle, deemed his cause the cause of heaven ”

“ Where's a' their boastfu' preaching now,
⁠Against their king and law,
When mony a head in death lies low,
⁠And mony mae maun fa'?”
Ay, but death lasts no for aye, Ladye,
⁠For tho grave maun yield its prey ”