'Can ye play the Flooers o' the Forest, no ?' he added yet again.
'Ay can I,' answered Robert, with some pride, and laid the bow on the violin, and played the air through without blundering a single note.
'Weel, that's verra weel,' said Mr.Lammie.

'But it's nae mair like as yer gran'father played it, than gin there war twa sawyers at it, ane at ilka lug o' the bow, wi' the fiddle atween them in a saw-pit.' Robert's heart sank within him; but Mr.Lammie went on: 'To hear the bow croudin' (cooing), and wailin', an' greitin' ower the strings, wad hae jist garred ye see the lands o' braid Scotlan' wi' a' the lasses greitin' for the lads that lay upo' reid Flodden side; lasses to cut, and lasses to gether, and lasses to bin', and lasses to stook, and lasses to lead, and no a lad amo' them a'.

It's just the murnin' o' women, doin' men's wark as weel 's their ain, for the men that suld hae been there to du 't; and I s' warran' ye, no a word to the orra (exceptional, over-all) lad that didna gang wi' the lave (rest).' Robert had not hitherto understood it--this wail of a pastoral and ploughing people over those who had left their side to return no more from the field of battle.

But Mr.Lammie's description of his grandfather's rendering laid hold of his heart.
'I wad raither be grutten for nor kissed,' said he, simply.
'Haud ye to that, my lad,' returned Mr.Lammie.

'Lat the lasses greit for ye gin they like; but haud oot ower frae the kissin'.