They lighted high in Batinghope,
Atween the brown and benty ground;
They had but rested a little while
Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.
XIII
There’s nane may lean on a rotten staff,
But him that risks to get a fa’;
There’s nane may in a traitor trust,
And traitors black were every Ha’.
XIV
They’ve stown the bridle off his steed,
And they’ve put water in his lang gun;
They’ve fixed his sword within the sheath
That out again it winna come.
XV
‘Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
Or by your enemies be ta’en!
For yonder are the five Crosiers
A-coming owre the Hingin-stane!’—
XVI
‘If they be five, and we be four,
Sae that ye stand alang wi’ me,
Then every man ye will take one,
And only leave but two to me:
We will them meet as brave men ought,
And make them either fight or flee.’—