Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review. Volume 16, 1905.djvu/250

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Hogmanay! Trollolay! Gie us o' your white bread, And nane o' your grey. Oor shoon's made o' mare's skin, Come, open the door and let's in; Redd up stocks, and redd up stools, Here come in a pack of fools.

I am Bol Bendo. Who are you?

I am here, the King of France, Come for a battle to advance.

I am here, the King of Spain, Come for a battle to maintain.

Silence! Silence! Gentlemen,
 * Upon me cast an eye,

My name's Sir Alexander,
 * I'll sing you a tragedy.

Four of us there are,
 * And merry boys are we;

And we are going a-rambling
 * Your houses for to see.