To that battle ſhall make them bown;
There ſhall creſcents come full keen,
That wears the Croſs as red as blood,
On every ſide ſhall be ſorrow ſeen,
Defiled in many doughty food,
Beſides a loch upon a lee,
They ſhall aſſemble upon a day,
And many doughty men ſhall die,
Few in quiet ſhall be found away.
Our Scottiſh King shall come full keen,
The red lion beareth he;
A feddered arrow sharp I ween,
Shall make him wink, and warre to ſee,
Out of the field he shall be led,
When he is bloody and woe for blood;
Yet to his men then shall he ſay,
For God's love turn thou again,
And give your ſouthern folk a fray;
Why should I loſe? the right is mine,
My fate is not to die this day.
Yonder is falſehood fled away,
And laughty blows his horn on high:
Our bloody King that wears the crown,
Full boldly shall the battle bide,
His banner shall be beaten down,
And hath none hole his head to hide.
The ſterns three that day shall die,
That bears the hart in ſilver sheen,
There is no riches, gold nor fee,
May lengthen his life an hour I ween.
Thus thro' the field that Knight shall ride,
And twice reſcue the King with crown;
He shall make many a banner yield,
The Knight that bears the tods three,
He will by force the field to tae;
But when he ſees the lion die,
Think ye well he will be wae!
Beſide him lights bairns three,
Two is white the third is blae,
The tods three shall ſlay the two,
The third of them shall make him die,
Out of the field shall go no more,
But one Knight and Knaves three.
C 2
