For Witherington my heart was woe
That ever he slain should be:
For when both his legs were hewn in two
Yet he kneel’d and fought on his knee.
LI
There was slayn with the doughty Douglas
Sir Hugh the Montgomerye,
Sir Davy Lambwell, that worthy was,
His sister’s son was he.
LII
Sir Charles a Murray in that place,
That never a foot would flee:
Sir Hew Maxwell, a lord he was,
With the Douglas did he dee.
LIII
So on the morrow they made them biers
Of birch and hazel so gray;
Many widows with weeping tears
Came to fetch their makes[1120] away.
LIV
Teviotdale may carp[1121] of care,
Northumberland may make moan,
For two such captains as slain were there
On the March-parts shall never be none.