“Sicken like mercy sall ye have,
On gallows ye sall hangit be!”
“Over God’s forbode,” quoth the Outlaw then,
“I hope your Grace will better be!
Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port,
I trow thin guarded sall ye be.
“Thir lands of Ettrick Forest fair,
I wan them from the enemie;
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,