Chapter 17 STRIFE.

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,

An adder and a snake;

But haud me fast, let me not pass,

Gin ye would be my maik.

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,

An adder and an aske;

They'll turn me in your arms, Janet,

A bale that burns fast.

They'll shape me in your arms, Janet,

A dove, but and a swan;

And last, they'll s