When a twelvemonth had expired, John Thomson he thought wondrous lang, And he has written a braid letter, And sealed it weel wi' his ain hand. (_mintet_, started off.) He sent it with a small vessel That there was quickly ga en to sea; And sent it on to fair Scotland, To see about his gay lady. But the answer he received again,-- The lines did grieve his heart right sair: Nane of her friends there had her seen, For a twelvemonth and something mair. Then he put on a palmers weed, And took a pike-staff in his hand; To Violentrie's castle he hied; But slowly, slowly he did gang. When within the hall he came, He jooked and couch'd out ower his tree: "If ye be lady of this hall, Some of your good bountith gie me." "What news, what news, palmer," she said, "And from what country came ye?" "I'm lately come from Grecian plains, Where lies some of the Scots army." "If ye be come from Grecian plains, Some mair news I will ask of thee,-- Of one of the chieftains that lies there, If he has lately seen his gay lady." (_jooked,_ bowed. _tree_, staff.) "It is twa months, and something mair, Since we did part on yonder plain; And now this knight has began to fear One of his foes he has her ta en." "He has not ta'en me by force nor slight; It was a' by my ain free will; He may tarry into the fight, For here I mean to tarry still. "And if John Thomson ye do see, Tell him I wish him silent sleep; His head was not so cosily, Nor yet sae weel, as lies at my feet." With that he threw off his strange disguise, Laid by the mask that he had on; Said, "Hide me now, my lady fair, For Violentrie will soon be hame." "For the love I bore thee aince, I'll strive to hide you, if I can:" Then she put him down in a dark cellar Where there lay many a new slain man. But he hadna in the cellar been, Not an hour but barely three, Then hideous was the noise he heard, When in at the gate came Violentrie. Says, "I wish you well, my lady fair, It's time for us to sit to dine; Come, serve me with the good white bread And likewise with the claret wine. "That Scots chieftain, our mortal foe, Sae oft frae the field has made us flee, Ten thousand zechins this day I'll give That I his face could only see." "Of that same gift would ye give me, If I would bring him unto thee? I fairly hold you at your word;-- Come ben, John Thomson, to my lord." Then from the vault John Thomson came, Wringing his hands most piteously: "What would ye do," the Turk he cried, "If ye had me as I hae thee?" "If I had you as ye have me, I'll tell ye what I'd do to thee; I'd hang you up in good greenwood, And cause your ain hand wale the tree. "I meant to stick you with my knife For kissing my beloved lady:"