"Ye'll spare not the wine, altho' it be fine, 25 Nae Malago, tho' it be rarely; But ye'll aye drink the bonnie lassie's health That's to clear your lawing fairly." Then he's done him down to yon tavern house, And drank till day was dawing; 30 And aye he drank the bonny lassie's health That was coming to clear his lawing. And aye as he birled, and aye as he drank The gude beer and the brandy, He spar'd not the wine, altho' it was fine, 35 The sack nor the sugar candy. "It's a wonder to me," the knight he did say, "My bonnie lassie's sae delaying; She promis'd, as sure as she loved me ance, She wou'd be here by the dawing." 40 He's done him to a shott window, A little before the dawing, And there he spied her nine brothers bauld, Were coming to betray him. "Where shall I rin, where shall I gang, 45 Or where shall I gang hide me? She that was to meet me in friendship this day, Has sent nine men to slay me!" He's gane to the landlady o' the house, Says, "O can you supply me? 50 For she that was to meet me in friendship this day, Has sent nine men to slay me! She gae him a suit o' her ain female claise, And set him to the baking; The bird never sang mair sweet on the bush, 55 Nor the knight sung at the baking. As they came in at the ha' door, Sae loudly as they rappit, And when they came upon the floor, Sae loudly as they chappit! 60 "O had ye a stranger here last night, Who drank till the day was dawing? Come, show us the chamber where he lyes in, We'll shortly clear his lawing." "I had nae stranger here last night, 65 That drank till the day was dawing; But ane that took a pint, and paid it ere he went, And there's naething to clear o' his lawing." A lad amang the rest, being o' a merry mood, To the young knight fell a-talking; 70 The wife took her foot, and gae him a kick, Says, "Be busy, ye jilt, at your baking." They stabbed the house, baith but and ben, The curtains they spared nae riving, And for a' that they did search and ca', 75 For a kiss o' the knight they were striving. THE DUKE OF ATHOL'S NOURICE. Kinloch's _Ancient Scottish Ballads_, p. 127. As I cam in by Athol's yetts, I heard a fair maid singing; "I am the Duke o' Athol's nourice, And I wat it weel does set me; And I wad gie a' my half-year's fee, 5 For ae sicht o' my Johnie."