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JOHNIE AEMSTRANG. 47 |
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" Away, away, thou traytor Strang !
Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be ! I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I'll not begin with thee !"
" Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King! u And a bonny gift I'll gie to thee—
Gude four-and-twenty ganging mills, That gang throw a' the yeir to me.
" These four-and-twenty mills complete
Sail gang for thee throw all the yeir; so
And as mekle of gude reid wheit, As all thair happers dow to bear."
" Away, away, thou traytor Strang !
Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be! I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe, «
And now I'll not begin with thee."
" Grant me my lyfe, my liege, my King !
And a great gift I'll gie to thee— Bauld four-and-twenty sisters' sons,
Sail for thee fecht, tho all sould flee ! " eo
" Away, away, thou traytor Strang !
Out o' my sicht sune mayst thou be ! I grantit nevir a traytors lyfe,
And now I'll not begin with thee." |
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