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⟨Here⟩ comes none in, said the porter,
By him that dy’d on tree,
⟨Will⟩ that false traitor be hang’d,
Call’d William of Cloudeslie.
At length did speak Clim of the Clough,
And swore by Mary free,
(illegible text) that he should stand long without,
Like a thief hang’d thou shalt be.
⟨Lo!⟩ here we have the king’s great seal,
What burden art thou wood;
The porter ween’d it had been so,
And lightly did his hood.
Welcome is my lord’s seal, he said,
For that thou shalt come in;
He open’d the gates full shortly,
An evil opening for him.
Now when we are in, said Adam Bell,
Whereof we are right fain;
But fortune knows assuredly,
How we’ll win out again.
Had we the keys, said Clim of the Clough,
Right well then would we speed;
⟨Then⟩ might we come out well enough,
When we see time and need.
They call’d the porter to council,
And wrung his neck in two,
And cast him in a deep dungeon,
And took the keys him fro,
{illegible}} porter, said Adam Bell,
