“Before sunrise,” quoth Gideon,
“You’ll speak less vauntingly;
Say what ye like of me, you dog,
But leave my bairnies be.”
The strife went high and bloodily,
They grappled at the throat;
And many was the Elibank,
The reavers deadly smote.
The guns banged off, the sleuth-hounds yelled,
The cattle rowted sore;