‘Siccan[530] like mercy sall ye have;
On gallows ye sall hangit be!’—
‘Over God’s forbode,’ quoth the Outlaw then,
‘I hope your grace will better be!
Else, ere you come to Edinburgh port,
I trow thin guarded sall ye be.
LX
‘Thir lands of Ettrick Forest fair,
I wan them from the enemie;
Like as I wan them, sae will I keep them,
Contrair a’ kings in Christentie.’
LXI
All the nobles the King about,
Said pity it were to see him dee.
‘Yet grant me mercy, sovereign prince,
Extend your favour unto me!
LXII
‘I’ll give thee the keys of my castell,
Wi’ the blessing o’ my gay ladye,
Gin thou’lt make me sheriff of this forest,
And a’ my offspring after me.’—
LXIII
‘Wilt thou give me the keys of thy castell,
Wi’ the blessing of thy gay ladye?
I’se make thee sheriff of Ettrick Forest,
Surely while upward grows the tree;
If you be not traitor to the King,
Forfaulted[531] sall thou never be.’