“Around you call your merry men all
To whom you’ve given bread;
For refuge we to the Kirk will flee
Since we are thus bestead.
“Do you take all your merry men who
Your coursers’ backs have prest;
We’ll hie us to our Lady’s church,
And set our hearts at rest.
“That’s the best counsel, love, I know,
A simple woman I;
In Mary’s house we’ll lock ourselves,
And there our foes defy.”
It was the little Engel,
Into the church he went:
Sir Loumand to beleaguer him
A hundred men has sent.
Before the kirk his men they lay
Till full five months were past;
It was Godey Sir Loumand
So wrathful grew at last.
Then spake the mother of little Malfred,
With hate ’gainst her was fill’d:
“The Kirk of Maria burn with fire,
And it with gold rebuild.”
The fire began to burn, to burn,
The sparkles in they flew;
At that adread was little Malfred,
And ashy pale she grew.
It was so hot in the Kirk yard when
Abroad the blazes sped;
But in the Kirk still hotter when
In poured the melted lead.
It was the little Malfred,
So frantic was her mood:
“O let us quick the horses stick,
And cool us with their blood.”
Then little Engel answer made,
As on the floor he stood:
“But coolness small shall we derive
From our good coursers’ blood.”