4
She put her hand in her pocket,
And pull'd out half-a-croun,
Says, "Tak' ye that, ye beltit knicht,
And pay your lawin doun."
As he went frae the weel-faured May,
A beggar bold met he,
Was cover'd wi' a clouted cloke,
In his hand a trustie tree.
"What news, what news, ye silly auld man!
What news ha'e ye to gie?"
"No news, no news, ye beltit knicht,
No news ha'e I to thee,
But fifteen lords in the hostler-house
Waiting Wallace for to see."
"Ye'll lend to me your clouted cloke,
That kivers ye frae heid to shie;
And I'll go to the hostler-house,
To ask far some supplie."
Now he's gane to the West-muir wood,
And pulled a trustie trie;
And then he's on to the hostler gone,
Asking there for charitie.
Doun the stair the captain comes,
The puir man for to see:
"If ye be captain as gude as ye look,
You'll give me some supplie."
"Where were ye born, ye cruikit carle?
Where, and in what countrie?"
"In fair Scotland, sir, was I born,
Cruikit carle as ye ca' me,"
