Page:Hand in hand; (IA handinhand00kipl).pdf/66



HEN Peden the Prophet, the outlaw, was dying, He said to the friends that were weeping at hand: "Ye'll tak' me to Ayremoss; I fain would be lying Where Ritchie is resting, at peace in the land. But when and wherever my grave may be maken, My weary auld body will find but small rest, By the force of the wicked my bones will be taken To swing on a gibbet, the enemy's jest."