Glad cam the dawn in rosy robe, Whilk day our Saviour rase, An' flang her scancing dewy veil Out ower the hills and braes. |
The doolfu' compensation, o' whilk men say he had his share. |
Think on his pride and vainglory, whilk Scripture says shall be brocht low. |
But here is one, of whom ich will conquire, Whilk way che might attain to my desire. |
But, why were you no here by the cotch o' whilk ye advised me. |