Page:Posthumous poems (IA posthumousswinb00swin).pdf/46

And out it spak him, foul Borolallie,
 Says "whatten a coil's this coil?
Ye'll mak a fire on the Ninestane rigs,
 For a pot thereon to boil."

And out it spak him, foul Borolallie,
 Says "whatten a din's this din?
Ye'll boil his body within the brass,
 The brass to boil him in,"

They boiled his body on the Ninestane rigs
 That wizard mickle of lear;
They have sodden the bones of his body,
 To be their better cheer.

They buried his bones on the Ninestane rigs
 But the flesh was a' clean gane;
There was great joy in a' that border
 That Lord Soulis was well slain.

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