9 Whan he cam to Edinburgh town,
He made the bells to ring,
And when he cam to merry Carlisle,
He made the monks to sing.
10 When he cam to the king's gates,
He made his drums beat round;
The king bot and his nobles a'
They wonderd at the sound.
11 'Is this [the] King of France,' he cried,
'Or is't the King of Spain?
Or is it Johnie, the Little Scot,
That's wanting to be slain?'
12 'It's neither the King of France,' he said,
'Nor is't the King of Spain;
But it is Johnie, the Little Scot,
That's come to claim his ain.'
13 They foucht it ance, they foucht it twice,
They foucht it oure again,
Till draps o blood, like draps o rain,
War rinning to the plain.
14 Then Johnie drew a nut-brown brand,
And strook it oure the plain,
Saying, Are there onie mae o your Englishmen
That's wanting to be slain?
15 'A clerk, a clerk,' the king he cried,
'To sign her tocher-fee;'
'A priest, a priest,' then Johnie cried,
'To marry my love and me.
16 'I'll hae nane o your gowd,' he says,
'As little o your gear;
But I'll hae her, my ain true-love,
For I'm sure I've coft her dear.'