29
‘Throw me my irons, Dickie!’ he cries,
‘For I wot they cost me dear enough;’
‘O shame a ma!’ cries Jokie Ha,
‘They’ll be good shakles to my plough.’
30
‘Come through, come through, Liewtenant Gordon!
Come throw, and drink some wine wi me!
For yesterday I was your prisoner,
But now the night I am set free.’