< Page:Posthumous poems (IA posthumousswinb00swin).pdf
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POSTHUMOUS POEMS
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."
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,"
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.
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.
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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