Twa unicorns, sae bra' to see;
There's the picture of a knight, and a ladye bright,
Wi' the grene hollin abune their brie.

"There the Outlaw keepis five hundred men;
He keepis a royalle cumpanie!
His merrymen in ae livery clad,
O' the Linkome grene sae gaye to see:

"He and his ladye in purple clad;
O! gin they live not royallie!

"He says, yon Foreste is his awin;
He wan it frae the Southronie;
Sae as he wan it, sae will he keep it,
Contrair all kingis in Christentie."

"Gar warn me Perthshire, and Angus baith;
Fife up and down, and the Louthians three,
And graith my horse!" said the nobil king,
"For to Ettricke Foreste hie will I me."

Then word is gane the Outlaw till,
In Ettricke Foreste, where dwelleth he,
That the king was cuming to his cuntrie,
To conquess baith his landis and he.

"I mak a vow," the Outlaw said,
"I mak a vow, and that trulie,
Were there but three men to tak my pairt;
Yon king's cuming full deir suld be!"

Then messengers he called forth,
And bade them hie them speedilye--
"Ane of ye gae to Halliday,
The laird of the Corhead is he.

"He certain is my sister's son;
Bid him cum quick and succour me!
The king cums on for Ettricke Foreste,
And landless men we a' will be."

"What news? What news?" said Halliday,
"Man, frae thy master unto me?"
"Not as ye wad; seeking your aide;
The king's his mortal enemie."

"Aye, by my troth!" said Halliday,
"Even for that it repenteth me;
For gif he lose feir Ettricke Foreste,
He'll tak feir Moffatdale frae me.

"I'll meet him wi' five hundred men,
And surely mair, if mae may be;
And before he gets the Foreste feir,
We a' will die on Newark Lee!"

The Outlaw call'd a messenger,
And bid him hie him speedilye,
To Andrew Murray of Cockpool--
"That man's a deir cousin to me;
Desyre him cum, and mak me ayd,
With a' the power that he may be."

"It stands me hard," Andrew Murray said,
Judge gif it stands na hard wi' me;
To enter against a king wi' crown,
And set my landis in jeopardie!
Yet, if I cum not on the day,
Surely at night he sall me see."

To Sir James Murray of Traquair,
A message cam right speedilye--
"What news? What news?" James Murray said,
"Man, frae thy master unto me?"

"What neids I tell? for weell ye ken,
The king's his mortal enemie;
And now he is cuming to Ettricke Foreste,
And lan