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They ate, they laugh’d, they sang and quaff’d,
Till nought on board was seen,
When knight and squire were bidden to dine
But a spur of silver sheen.
He belted on his guid braid sword,/ And to the field he ran;/ But he forgot the helmet good,/ That should have kept his brain.
When Percy with the Douglas met,/ I wat he was fu fain!
They swakked their swords, till sair they swat,/ And the blood ran down like rain.