They rade their horse, they ran their horse,
Then hover'd on the lee:
"We be three lads of fair Scotland,
That fain wou'd fighting see."
This boasting when young Edward heard,
An angry man was he:
"I'll take yon lad, I'll bind yon lad,
And bring him bound to thee!
"Now, God forbid," king Edward said,
"That ever thou shou'd try!
Three worthy leaders we ha'e lost,
And thou the forth wou'd lie.
"If thou shou'dst hang on yon draw-brig,
Blythe wou'd I never be."
But, with the poll-axe in his hand,
Upon the brig sprang be.
The first stroke that young Edward ga'e,
He struck with might and main;
He clove the Maitland's helmet stout,
And bit right nigh the brain.
When Maitland saw his ain blood fall,
An angry man was he;
He let his weapon frae him fall,
And at his throat did flee.
And thrice about he did him swing,
Till on the ground he light,
Where he has halden young Edward,
Tho' he was great in might.
"Now let him up," king Edward cried,
"And let him come to me;
And for the deed that thou hast done,
Thou shalt ha'e earldomes three!"
"It's ne'er be said in France, nor e'er
In Scotland, when I'm hame,
That Edward once lay under me,
And e'er gat up again!"
He pierced him through and through the heart,
He maul'd him cruellie;
Then hung him o'er the draw-brig,
Beside the other three.
"Now take frae me that feather-bed,
Make me a bed of strae!
I wish I hadna lived this day,
To make my heart sae wae.
"If I were ance at London Tow'r,
Where I was wont to be,
I never mair shou'd gang frae hame,
Till borne on a bier-tree.
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