“Piercy shall with the eldest fight,
And Ethert Lunn with thee;
William of Lancaster the third,
And bring your fourth to me!

“Remember, Piercy, aft the Scot
Has cower’d beneath thy hand;
For every drap of Maitland blood,
I’ll gi’e a rig of land.”

He clanked Piercy o’er the head
A deep wound and a sair,
Till the best blood of his body
Came running down his hair.

“Now, I’ve slayne ane; slay ye the twa;
And that’s gude companye;
And if the twa shou’d slay ye baith,
Ye’se get nae help frae me.”

But Ethert Lunn, a baited bear,
Had many battles seen;
He set the youngest wonder sair,
Till the eldest he grew keen.

“I am nae king, nor nae sic thing: 
My word it shanna stand! 
For Ethert shall a buffet bide,
Come he beneath my brand.”

He clankit Ethert o’er the head
A deep wound and a sair,
Till the best blood in his body
Came running o’er his hair.

“Now, I’ve slayne twa; slay ye the ane;
Isna that gude companye? 
And though the ane shou’d slay ye baith. 
Ye’se get nae help of me.”

The twa-some they ha’e slayne the ane,
They maul’d him cruellie;
Then hung him over the draw-brig,
That all the host might see.

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.