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334 TONE-POETRY OF ROBERT BURNS |
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'There's nocht in my purse,' quo' gude Wallace,
* There's nocht, not even a bare pennie; But I will down to yon wee Ostler-house
Thir fyfteen Englishmen to see.'
And when he cam to yon wee Ostler-house
He bad benedicite be there ; [The Englishmen at the table sat
The wine-fac'd captain at him did stare.]
'Where was ye born, auld crookit carl, Where was ye born—in what countrie?'
' I am a true Scot born and bred, And an auld crookit carl just sic as ye see.'
• I wad gie fyfteen shillings to onie crookit carl—
To onie crookit carl just sic as ye, If ye will get me gude Wallace,
For he is the man I wad very fain see.'
He hit the proud captain alang the chaft blade, That never a bit o' meal he ate mair;
And he sticket the rest at the table where they sat, And he left them a' lyin sprawlin there.
I Get up, get up, gudewife,' he says,
' And get to me some dinner in haste ; For it will soon be three lang days Sin I a bit o' meat did taste.'
The dinner was na weel readie,
Nor was it on the table set, Till other fyfteen Englishmen
Were a' lighted about the yett.
' Come out, come out, now gude Wallace This is the day that thou maun die ; *
II lippen nae sae little to God,' he says,
• Altho' I be but ill wordie.'
The gudewife had an auld gudeman,
By gude Wallace he stiffly stood ; Till ten o' the fyfteen Englishmen
Before the door lay in their blude.
The other five to the greenwood ran, And he hang'd these five upon a grain;
And on the morn wi' his merry men a* He sat at dine in Lochmaben town. |
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