And for whom the bloody Claverhouse Had hunted long in vain, And swore they would not leave that glen Till old Tam Roy was slain.
So Jamie Douglas went his way With heart that knew no fear: He turned the great curve in the rock, Nor dreamed that death was near.
And there were bloody Claverhouse men Who laughed aloud with glee, When, trembling now within their power, The frightened child they see.
He turns to flee, but all in vain: They drag him back apace To where their cruel leader stands, And set them face to face.
The cakes concealed beneath his plaid Soon tell the story plain— “It is old Tam Roy the cakes are for!” Exclaimed the angry man.
“Now guide me to his hiding-place, And I will let you go.” But Jamie shook his yellow curls, And stoutly answered, “No!”
“I’ll drop you down the mountain side, And there upon the stones The old gaunt wolf and carrion crow Shall battle for your bones.”
And in his brawny, strong right hand He lifted up the child, And held him where the clefted rocks Formed a chasm deep and wild.
So deep it was, the trees below Like stunted bushes seemed. Poor Jamie looked in frightened maze: It seemed some horrid dream.
He looked at the blue sky above, Then at the men near by: Had they no little boys at home, That they could let him die?