Page:Battle of Roslin (1).pdf/6

6 And tere I see a dead man,
 * Was riding on his horse,

And O! he be a poor man,
 * And no hae mony clacs,

Te brogues be worn aff his feet,
 * And me see a' his taes.

To horse had up his muckle fit,
 * For to gie me a snap.

And gaping wi' his great mouth,
 * To grip me by the tap.

He had a staff into his hand,
 * To fight me an he coud.

But hersel be rin awa' frae him,
 * His horse be unco proud,

But I be rin a round about,
 * And stand about the guard,

Where I see the deil chap the horns,
 * Tan me grow unco fear'd

Ohon! Ohon! her nainsel said,
 * And whare will me go rin?

For yonder be the black man
 * That burns the fouk for sin,

I'll no pe stay nae langer tere,
 * But fast me rin awa',

And see the man thrawin te reaps,
 * Aside te Broomielaw,