Neither for thy love, nor yet thy fear;
But I will drive Jamie Telfer's kye,
In spite of every Scot that's here."
"Set on them, lads!" quo' Willie than;
Fye, lads, set on them cruellie!
For ere they win to the Ritterford,
Mony a toom[[138]] saddle there sall be!"
Then till't they gaed, wi' heart and hand;
The blows fell thick as bickering hail;
And mony a horse ran masterless,