human
And we will cut our green claithing A little aboon our knee; 70 And we will on to gude greenwood, Twa bauld bowmen to be.
gpt
Ohon, alas! said White Lillie,
human
My fingers are but sma'; And tho' my hands wou'd wield the bow, 75 They winna yield at a'.
gpt
O had your tongue now, White Lillie, And lat these fears a' be; There's naething that ye're awkward in But I will learn thee.