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Adam Bell, Clim of the Clough,
And William of Cloudeslie.
But ye be thieves then said the king,
That men have told to me?
Here to you I shall make a vow,
Ye shall be hang’d all three.
⟨Ye⟩ shall be dead without mercy,
As I'm king of the lands;
He had his officers every one,
Fast on them to lay hands.
Therefore they took these yeomen,
Arrested them all three:
⟨So⟩ may I thrive, said Adam Bell,
This game not pleaseth me.
But, good lord, we beseech you now,
That you will grant us grace,
Insomuch as to you we came,
Or else may from you pass;
With such weapons as we have here,
Till we go from your place,
And if we live this hundred years,
We’ll ask of you no grace.
Ye speak proudly, then said the king,
Ye shall be hang’d all three:
That were a pity, said the Queen,
If any grace might be.
My lord, when I first saw this land,
To be your wedded wife,
The first boon that e’er I should ask,
