No: 157; variant: 157D
- ‘I WISH we had our king,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘An ilka true Scotsman had his nawn;
For between us an the southron louns
I doubt some ill seed has been sawn.’
- Wallace he owre the water gaed,
An looked low down by a glen,
An there he saw a pretty, pretty maid,
As she was at the well washin.
- ‘O weel may ye wash, my bonny, bonny maid!
An weel may ye saep, an me to see!
If ye have ony tidins to tell,
I pray you tell them unto me.’
- ‘I have no tidins for to tell,
Nor ony uncos do I ken;
But up into yon little alehouse
An there sits fyfteen Englishmen.
- ‘An ay they are speakin o Gude Wallace,
An ay they are doomin him to hang:’
‘O forbid!’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘He’s owre truehearted a Scotsman.
- ‘Had I but a penny in my pouch,
As I have not a single bawbee,
I would up into yon little alehouse,
An ay thae southron blades to see.’
- She’s put her hand into her pouch,
An counted him out pennies three;
‘If ever I live to come back this way,
Weel paid the money it shall be.’
- He’s taen a staff into his hand,
An leand himsel outowre a tree,
An he’s awa to yon little alehouse,
An ay the southron louns to see.
- When he gaed in to that little alehouse,
He bad his bennison be there;
The captain answered him [in] wrath,
He answerd him with domineer.
- ‘O whare was ye born, ye crooked auld carle?
An how may this your dwellin be?’
‘O I was born in fair Scotland,
A crooked carle altho I be.’
- ‘O I would een gie twenty shillins
To ony sic crooked carle as thee
That wad find me out Gude Wallace;
For ay that traitor I lang to see.’
- ‘Haud out your hand,’ quo Gude Wallace,
‘I doubt your money be not gude;
If ye’ll gie ither twenty shillins,
It neer shall bide ye anither bode.’
- He’s taen the captain outowre the jaws,
Anither word spak he neer mair;
An five he sticket whare they sat,
The rest lay scramblin here an there.
- ‘Get up, get up, gudewife,’ he says,
‘An get some meat ready for me,
For I hae fasted this three lang days;
A wat right hungry I may be.’
- The meat it wasna weel made ready,
Nor as weel on the table set,
Till there cam fyfteen Englishmen
An lighted a’ about the yett.
- The gudewife ran but, the gudeman ran ben;
It put them a’ in sic a stoure
That five he sticket whare they sat,
An five lay sprawlin at the door.
- An five are to the greenwood gane,
An he’s hangd them a’ outowre a tree,
An before the mornin at twal o clock
He dined wi his men at Loch Marie.