Page:History of Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough, and William of Cloudeslie (2).pdf/9

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The worft porter in merry Carlifle, That came this hundred years. Come, we will our ftrong bows bend Into the town we’ll go, For to deliver our brother, That lies in grief and woe. Then they all bent their good yew bows. And look’d their firings were round; The market-place of merry Carlifle They befet in that ftound. And as they looked them befide, A pair of gallows they fee. And the Juftice, with queft of'fquires, Judg’d William hang’d to be. And Cloudeflie hay on a cart. Faft bound both feet and hand, And a ftrong rope about his neck, All ready for to hang, The Juftice call’d to him a lad, Cloudeflie’s clothes fhould have, To take meafure of that yeoman, And make for him a grave. I’ve feen as great things, faid Cloudeflie, As between this and prime; He that makes a grave for me, Himfelf may lie therein. Thou fpeakeft proudly, faid the Juftice, I’ll hang thee with my own hand, Fulll well head this his brethren two, There ftill as they did ftand.