An they lay slain on every know.
12
‘O hold your hand,’ then Monmouth cry’d,
‘Gie quarters to yon men for me;’
But wicked Claverhouse swore an oath
His cornet’s death revengd sud be.
13
‘O hold your hand,’ then Monmouth cry’d,
‘If ony thing you’ll do for me;
Hold up your hand, you cursed Græme,