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THE BARON OF BRAIKLEY. 195
" I'me nae coward, brither, it's kent I'me a man; He ficht i' your quarral as lang's I can stan. lie ficht, my dear brither, wi heart an guid will, An so will yung Harry that lives at the mil!. a
" But turn, my dear brither, and nae langer stay. What'll cum o'your ladie, gin Braikley they slay? What'll cum o' your ladie an' bonny yung son, 0 what'll cum o' them when Braikley is gone ? "
" I never will turn: do ye think I will fly ?
No, here I will ficht, and here I will die." oo
" Strik dogs," cries Inverey, " an ficht till ye're
slayn, For we are four hunder, ye are but four men: Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honor is gone, Your lans we will plunder, your castell we'll burn."
At the head o' the Etnach the battel began, ea At little Auchoilzie they killd the first man: First they killd ane, an syne they killd twa, They killd gallant Braikley, the flowr o' them a'.
They killd "William Gordon and James o' the
Knox, An brave Alexander, the flowr o' Glenmuick: ro What sichin an moaning war heard i the glen, For the Baronne o' Braikley, wha basely was