I BALLADS
He looked over his left shoulder
To try whatever he could see, And he was aware of his auld father,
Tearing his hair most piteouslie.
'O haud your tongue, my father dear, And see that ye dinna weep for me !
For they may ravish me o' my life,
But they canna banish me fro' Heaven hie.
And ye may gie my brither John
My sword that's bent in the middle clear,
And let him come at twelve o'clock, And see me pay the Bishop's mare.
And ye may gie my brither James
My sword that's bent in the middle brown,
And bid him come at four o'clock, And see his brither Hugh cut down.
And ye may tell my kith and kin I never did disgrace their blood;
And when they meet the Bishop's cloak, To mak' it shorter by the hood.'
XXIX
KINMONT WILLIE
THE CAPTURE
O HAVE ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde?
O have ye na heard o' the keen Lord Scroope? How they hae ta'en bold Kinmont Willie,
On Haribee to hang him up?
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