feeling the heat, Governor White protested that he hadnt

There wad they preach, each Saint to each, and glower as the

And Peden wared his malison on a bonny leaguer lass,

As she stood and daffed, while the warders laughed, and wha sae

But a wind o' ill worked his warlock will, and flang her out to

Then wha sae bright as the Saints that night, and an angel came,

And sang in the cell where the Righteous dwell, but he took na a

There yet might they be, for nane could flee, and nane daur'd break

And still the sobbing o' the sea might mix wi' their warlock wail,