They've ta'en him to the gallows knowe, He lookèd to the gallows tree, Yet never colour left his cheek, Nor ever did he blink his e'e.
He lookèd over his left shoulder To try whatever he could see, And he was aware of his auld father, Tearing his hair most piteouslie.
‘O haud your tongue, my father dear, And see that ye dinna weep for me! For they may ravish me o' my life, But they canna banish me fro' Heaven hie.
And ye may gie my brither John My sword that's bent in the middle clear, And let him come at twelve o'clock, And see me pay the Bishop's mare.
And ye may gie my brither James My sword that's bent in the middle brown, And bid him come at four o'clock, And see his brither Hugh cut down.
And ye may tell my kith and kin I never did disgrace their blood; And when they meet the Bishop's cloak, To mak' it shorter by the hood.’
[XXIX]
KINMONT WILLIE
THE CAPTURE
O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde? O have ye na heard o' the keen Lord Scroope? How they hae ta'en bold Kinmont Willie, On Haribee to hang him up?
Had Willie had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en, Wi' eight score in his cumpanie.