But we will gang like corn-buyers,
And we’ll put brechens on our mares.’
7
Then they are to the jail-house doors,
And they hae tirled at the pin:
‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Bell Archie?
Quickly rise, lat us come in.’
8
‘I sleep not aft, I lie not saft;
Wha’s there that knocks and kens my name?’