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THE DEATH OF FARCY REED
x
They hunted high, they hunted low, They hunted up, they hunted down,
Until the day was past the prime, And it grew late in the afternoon.
XI
They hunted high in Batinghope, When as the sun was sinking low ;
Says Parcy then, ' Ca' off the dogs,
We'll bait our steeds and homeward go.'
XII They lighted high in Batinghope,
Atween the brown and benty ground ; They had but rested a little while
Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.
XIII
There 's nane may lean on a rotten staff, But him that risks to get a fa';
There 's nane may in a traitor trust, And traitors black were every Ha'.
XIV
They've stown the bridle off his steed, And they've put water in his lang gun ;
They've fixed his sword within the sheath That out again it winna come.
xv
' Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
Or by your enemies be ta'en ! For yonder are the five Crosiers
A-coming owre the Hingin-stane! '— |
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