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And he sticket the rest at the table where they sat
And he left them a' lying sprawlin there.
Get up, get up, gudewife, he says,
And get to me some dinner in haste;
For it will soon be three lang days
Sin' I a bit o' meal did taste.
The dinner wasna weel readie,
Nor was it on the table set,
Till other fyfteen Englishmen,
Were a' lighted about the yett.
Come out, come out, now gude Wallace,
This is the day that thou maun die;
I lippen nae sae little to God, he says,
Although I be but ill wordie.
The gudewife had au auld gudeman,
By gude Wallace he stiffy stood,
Till ten o' the fyfteen Englishmen,
Before the door lay in their blude.
A RED, RED ROSE.
O my luve's like a red, rose,
