"Saint Mungo be my guide! it was goodly in that tide
To see the Bogle ride in his haste;
He accompanied each blow with a cry of 'ah!' or 'oh!'
As he always cleft the foe
To the waist.
"'George of Gorbals, craven lord! thou didst threat me with the cord;
Come forth and brave my sword, if you dare!'
But he met with no reply, and never could descry
The glitter of his eye
Anywhere."
The Gorbaliers were destroyed to a man, and in obedience to an order from Sir Launcelot the casks and empty flasks were removed by the "cellar master," but not without a shock—
"For he swore he heard a shriek
Through the door.
"When the merry Christmas came, and the Yule-log lent its flame
To the face of squire and dame in the hall,
The cellarer went down to tap October brown,
Which was rather of renown
'Mongst them all.
"He placed the spigot low, and gave the cask a blow,
But his liquor would not flow through the pin;
'Sure, 'tis sweet as honeysuckles!' so he rapped it with his knuckles,
But a sound as if of buckles
Clashed within.
"'Bring a hatchet, varlets, here!' and they cleft the cask of beer—
What a spectacle of fear met their sight!
There George of Gorbals lay, skull and bones all blanched and gray,
In the arms he bore the day
Of the fight!"
George of Gorbals.