Chapter VIII: Appendix: JOHNNY COCK. (See p. 11.)

From Fry's _Pieces of Ancient Poetry, from unpublished Manuscripts and scarce Books_ (p. 51). Bristol, 1814.

"This ballad is taken from a modern quarto manuscript purchased at Glasgow of Messrs. Smith and Son in the year 1810, and containing several others, but written so corruptly as to be of little or no authority; appearing to be the text-book of some illiterate drummer, from its comprising the music of several regimental marches."

Fry did not observe that he was printing fragments of two different versions as one ballad. They are here separated.

I.

Johnny Cock, in a May morning,
Sought water to wash his hands;
And he is awa to louse his dogs,
That's tied wi iron bans,
_That's tied wi iron bans_.

His coat it is of the light Lincum green, 5
And his breiks are of the same;
His shoes are of the American leather,
Silver buckles tying them.
_Silver buckles, &c._

'He' hunted up, and so did 'he' down,
Till 'he' came to yon bush of scrogs, 10
And then to yon wan water,
Where he slept among his dogs.

* * * * *

Johnny Cock out-shot a' the foresters,
And out-shot a' the three;
Out shot a' the foresters, 15
Wounded Johnny aboun the bree.

"Woe be to you, foresters,
And an ill death may you die![L18]
For there would not a wolf in a' the wood,
Have done the like to me. 20

"For ''twould ha' put its foot in the coll water,
And ha strinkled it on my bree;
And gin [it] that would not have done,
Would have gane and lett me be.

"I often took to my mother 25
The dandoo and the roe;
But now I'l take to my mother
Much sorrow and much woe.

"I often took to my mother
The dandoo and the hare; 30
But now I'l take to my mother
Much sorrow and much care."

18-24. Finlay furnishes one beautiful stanza which belongs to this portion of the story, and, as that editor remarks, describes expressively the languor of approaching death.

There's no a bird in a' this foreste
Will do as meikle for me,
As dip its wing in the wan water
An straik it on my ee-bree.

_Scottish Ballads_, I. xxxi.

II.

Fifteen foresters in the braid alow,
And they are wondrous fell;
To get a drop of Johnny's heart bluid,
They would sink a' their souls to hell.

Johnny Cock has gotten word of this, 5
And he is wondrous keen;
He['s] custan aff the red scarlet,
And on 'wi' the Linkum green.

And he is ridden oer muir and muss,
And over mountains high, 10
Till he came to yon wan water;
And there Johnny Cock did lie.

He's taen out a horn from his side,
And he blew both loud and shrill,
Till a' the fifteen foresters 15
Heard Johnny Cock blaw his horn.

They have sworn a bluidy oath,
And they swore all in one,
That there was not a man among them a',
Would blaw such a blast as yon. 20

And they have ridden oer muir and muss,
And over mountains high,
Till they came to yon wan water,
Where Johnny Cock did lie.

They have shotten little Johnny Cock, 25
A little above the ee;
* * * * *
For doing the like to me.

"There's not a wolf in a' the wood[L29]
Woud 'ha' done the like to me: 30
'She'd ha' dipped her foot in coll water,
And strinkled above my ee,
And if I would have waked for that,
'She'd ha' gane and let me be.

"But fingers five, come here, [come here,] 35
And faint heart fail me nought![L36]
And silver strings, value me sma' things,
Till I get all this vengeance rowght!"

He ha[s] shot a' the fifteen foresters,
Left never a one but one; 40
And he broke the ribs a that anes side,
And let him take tiding home.

They have ridden oer muir and muss,
And over mountains high,
Till they met wi 'an' old palmer, 45
Was walking along the way.

"What news, what news, old palmer,
What news have you to me?"
"Yonder is one of the proudest wed sons
That ever my eyes did see. 50
* * * * *

"* * a bird in a' the wood
Could sing as I could say;
It would go in to my mothers bower,[L53]
And bid her kiss me, and take me away."

29. word.

36. faint hearted.

53. bows.

THE LIFE AND DEATH OF SIR HUGH OF THE GRIME. (See p. 51.)

From Durfey's _Pills to purge Melancholy_, vi. 289.

The same is printed in Ritson's _Ancient Songs_ (ed. 1790), p. 192, from a collation of two blackletter copies, one in the collection of the Duke of Roxburgh, and "another in the hands of John Baynes, Esq." Several stanzas are corrupted, and the names are greatly disfigured. Ritson mentions in a note a somewhat different ballad on the same subject, beginning:--

"Good Lord John is a hunting gone."

* * * * *

As it befel upon one time,
About mid-summer of the year,
Every man was taxt of his crime,
For stealing the good Lord Bishop's mare.

The good Lord Screw sadled a horse, 5
And rid after the same serime;
Before he did get over the moss,
There was he aware of Sir Hugh of the Grime.

"Turn, O turn, thou false traytor,
Turn, and yield thyself unto me: 10
Thou hast stol'n the Lord Bishop's mare,
And now thinkest away to flee."

"No, soft, Lord Screw, that may not be;
Here is a broad sword by my side,
And if that thou canst conquer me, 15
The victory will soon be try'd."

"I ne'er was afraid of a traytor bold,
Altho' thy name be Hugh in the Grime;
I'll make thee repent thy speeches foul,
If day and life but give me time." 20

"Then do thy worst, good Lord Screw,
And deal your blows as fast as you can;
It will be try'd between me and you
Which of us two shall be the best man."

Thus as they dealt their blows so free, 25
And both so bloody at that time,
Over the moss ten yeomen they see,
Come for to take Sir Hugh in the Grime.

Sir Hugh set his back again[st] a tree,
And then the men compast him round; 30
His mickle sword from his hand did flee,
And then they brought Sir Hugh to the ground.

Sir Hugh of the Grime now taken is
And brought back to Garland town;
Then cry'd the good wives all in Garland town, 35
"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st ne'er gang down."

The good Lord Bishop is come to town,
And on the bench is set so high;
And every man was tax'd to his crime,
At length he called Sir Hugh in the Grime. 40

"Here am I, thou false Bishop,
Thy humours all to fulfil;
I do not think my fact so great
But thou mayst put [it] into thy own will."

The quest of jury-men was call'd, 45
The best that was in Garland town;
Eleven of them spoke all in a breast,
"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st ne'er gang down."

Then other questry-men was call'd,
The best that was in Rumary; 50
Twelve of them spoke all in a breast,
"Sir Hugh in the Grime, thou'st now guilty."

Then came down my good Lord Boles,
Falling down upon his knee;
"Five hundred pieces of gold will I give, 55
To grant Sir Hugh in the Grime to me."

"Peace, peace, my good Lord Boles,
And of your speeches set them by;
If there be eleven Grimes all of a name,
Then by my own honour they all should dye." 60

Then came down my good Lady Ward,
Falling low upon her knee;
"Five hundred measures of gold I'll give,
To grant Sir Hugh of the Grime to me."

"Peace, peace, my good Lady Ward, 65
None of your proffers shall him buy;
For if there be twelve Grimes all of a name,
By my own honour [they] all should dye."

Sir Hugh of the Grime's condemn'd to dye,
And of his friends he had no lack; 70
Fourteen foot he leapt in his ward,
His hands bound fast upon his back.

Then he look'd over his left shoulder,
To see whom he could see or 'spye;
Then was he aware of his father dear, 75
Came tearing his hair most pitifully.

"Peace, peace, my father dear,
And of your speeches set them by;
Tho' they have bereav'd me of my life,
They cannot bereave me of heaven so high." 80

He look'd over his right shoulder,
To see whom he could see or 'spye;
There was he aware of his mother dear,
Came tearing her hair most pitifully.

"Pray have me remember'd to Peggy my wife, 85
As she and I walk'd over the moor,
She was the cause of the loss of my life,
And with the old bishop she play'd the whore.

"Here, Johnny Armstrong, take thou my sword,
That is made of the metal so fine, 90
And when thou com'st to the Border side,
Remember the death of Sir Hugh of the Grime."

[JOHNIE ARMSTRANG, OR,] A NORTHERN BALLET.

From _Wit Restor'd_, p. 132.

There dwelt a man in faire Westmerland,
Jonne Armestrong men did him call,
He had nither lands nor rents coming in,
Yet he kept eight score men in his hall.

He had horse and harness for them all, 5
Goodly steeds were all milke white,
O the golden bands an about their necks,
And their weapons they were all alike.

Newes then was brought unto the king,
That there was sicke a won as hee, 10
That lived lyke a bold out-law,[L11]
And robbed all the north country.

The king he writt an a letter then
A letter which was large and long,
He signed it with his owne hand, 15
And he promised to doe him no wrong.

When this letter came Jonne untill,
His heart it was as blythe as birds on the tree;
"Never was I sent for before any king,
My father, my grandfather, nor none but mee. 20

"And if wee goe the king before,
I would we went most orderly;
Every man of you shall have his scarlet cloak,
Laced with silver laces three.

"Every won of you shall have his velvett coat, 25
Laced with sillver lace so white;
O the golden bands an about your necks,
Black hatts, white feathers, all alyke."

By the morrow morninge at ten of the clock,
Towards Edenburough gon was hee, 30
And with him all his eight score men,
Good lord, it was a goodly sight for to see!

When Jonne came befower the king,
He fell downe on his knee;
"O pardon my soveraine leige," he said, 35
"O pardon my eight score men and mee!"

"Thou shalt have no pardon, thou traytor strong,
For thy eight score men nor thee;
For to-morrow morning by ten of the clock,
Both thou and them shall hang on the gallow tree." 40

But Jonne looked over his left shoulder,
Good Lord, what a grevious look looked hee!
Saying, "Asking grace of a graceles face--
Why there is none for you nor me."

But Jonne had a bright sword by his side, 45
And it was made of the mettle so free,
That had not the king stept his foot aside,
He had smitten his head from his fair bodd['e].

Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all,
And see that none of you be taine; 50
For rather then men shall say we were hanged,
Let them report how we were slaine."

Then, God wott, faire Eddenburrough rose,
And so besett poore Jonne [a] rounde,
That fowerscore and tenn of Jonnes best men, 55
Lay gasping all upon the ground.

Then like a mad man Jonne laide about,
And like a mad man then fought hee,
Untill a falce Scot came Jonne behinde,
And runn him through the faire boddee. 60

Saying, "Fight on, my merry men all,
And see that none of you be taine;
For I will stand by and bleed but a while,
And then will I come and fight againe."

Newes then was brought to young Jonne Armestrong, 65
As he stood by his nurses knee,
Who vowed if er'e he lived for to be a man,
O th' the treacherous Scots reveng'd hee'd be.

11. syke.

LOUDOUN CASTLE. (See p. 149.)

From _The Ballads and Songs of Ayrshire_, First Series, p. 74, where it is taken from a _Statistical Account of the Parish of Loudoun_. The writer of the _Statistical Account_ states that the old castle of Loudoun is supposed to have been destroyed by fire about 350 years ago. "The current tradition," he adds, "ascribes that event to the Clan Kennedy, and the remains of an old tower at Auchruglen, on the Galston side of the valley, is still pointed out as having been their residence."

It fell about the Martinmas time,
When the wind blew snell and cauld,
That Adam o' Gordon said to his men,
"When will we get a hold?

"See [ye] not where yonder fair castle 5
Stands on yon lily lee?
The laird and I hae a deadly feud,
The lady fain would I see."

As she was up on the househead,
Behold, on looking down, 10
She saw Adam o' Gordon and his men,
Coming riding to the town.

The dinner was not well set down,
Nor the grace was scarcely said,
Till Adam o' Gordon and his men 15
About the walls were laid.

"It's fause now fa' thee, Jock my man,
Thou might a let me be;
Yon man has lifted the pavement stone,
An' let in the loun to me." 20

"Seven years I served thee, fair ladie,
You gave me meat and fee;
But now I am Adam o' Gordon's man,
An' maun either do it or die."

"Come down, come down, my Lady Loudoun, 25
Come thou down unto me;[L26]
I'll wrap thee on a feather bed,
Thy warrand I shall be."

"I'll no come down, I'll no come down,
For neither laird nor loun, 30
Nor yet for any bloody butcher
That lives in Altringham town.

"I would give the black," she says,
"And so would I the brown,
If that Thomas, my only son, 35
Could charge to me a gun."

Out then spake the Lady Margaret,
As she stood on the stair,--
The fire was at her goud garters,
The lowe was at her hair. 40

"I would give the black," she says,
"And so would I the brown,
For a drink of yon water,
That rins by Galston Town."

Out then spake fair Anne, 45
She was baith jimp and sma',
"O row me in a pair o' sheets,
And tow me down the wa'."

"O hold thy tongue, thou fair Anne,
And let thy talkin' be, 50
For thou must stay in this fair castle,
And bear thy death with me."

"O mother," spoke the Lord Thomas,
As he sat on the nurse's knee,
"O mother, give up this fair castle, 55
Or the reek will worrie me."

"I would rather be burnt to ashes sma',
And be cast on yon sea foam,
Before I'd give up this fair castle,
And my lord so far from home. 60

"My good lord has an army strong,
He's now gone o'er the sea;
He bade me keep this gay castle,
As long as it would keep me.

"I've four-and-twenty brave milk kye 65
Gangs on yon lily lee,
I'd give them a' for a blast of wind,
To blaw the reek from me."

O pitie on yon fair castle,
That's built with stone and lime, 70
But far mair pitie on Lady Loudoun,
And all her children nine.

26. down thou.

ROB ROY. (See p. 203.)

From _Select Scottish Songs, Ancient and Modern_, by Robert Burns, edited by Cromek, ii. 199.

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam,
Unto the Lawlan' border,
To steal awa a gay ladie
To haud his house in order.
He cam owre the lock o' Lynn, 5
Twenty men his arms did carry;
Himsel gaed in, an' fand her out,
Protesting he would marry.

"O will ye gae wi' me," he says,
"Or will ye be my honey? 10
Or will ye be my wedded wife?
For I love you best of any."
"I winna gae wi' you," she says,
"Nor will I be your honey,
Nor will I be your wedded wife; 15
You love me for my money."
* * * * *

But he set her on a coal-black steed,
Himsel lap on behind her,
An' he's awa to the Highland hills,
Whare her frien's they canna find her. 20
* * * * *

"Rob Roy was my father ca'd,
Macgregor was his name, ladie;
He led a band o' heroes bauld,
An' I am here the same, ladie.
Be content, be content, 25
Be content to stay, ladie,
For thou art my wedded wife
Until thy dying day, ladie.

"He was a hedge unto his frien's,
A heckle to his foes, ladie, 30
Every one that durst him wrang,
He took him by the nose, ladie.
I'm as bold, I'm as bold,
I'm as bold, an more, ladie;
He that daurs dispute my word, 35
Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie."

II.

From Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_, p. 44.

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam,
Unto our Scottish border,
And he has stow'n a lady fair,
To haud his house in order.

And when he cam, he surrounded the house, 5
Twenty men their arms did carry,
And he has stow'n this lady fair,
On purpose her to marry.

And when he cam, he surrounded the house;
No tidings there cam before him, 10
Or else the lady would have been gone,
For still she did abhor him.

Wi' murnfu' cries, and wat'ry eyes,
Fast hauding by her mother,
Wi' murnfu' cries, and wat'ry eyes, 15
They are parted frae each other.

Nae time he gied her to be dress'd,
As ladies do when they're bride O,
But he hastened and hurried her awa',
And he row'd her in his plaid O. 20

They rade till they cam to Ballyshine,
At Ballyshine they tarried;
He bought to her a cotton gown,
Yet ne'er would she be married.

Three held her up before the priest, 25
Four carried her to bed O,
Wi' wat'ry eyes, and murnfu' sighs,
When she behind was laid O.
* * * * *

"O be content, be content,
Be content to stay, lady, 30
For ye are my wedded wife
Unto my dying day, lady.

CHORUS.

_Be content, be content,
Be content to stay, lady,
For ye are my wedded wife
Unto my dying day, lady._

"My father is Rob Roy called,
M'Gregor is his name, lady,
In all the country where he dwells, 35
He does succeed the fame, lady.

"My father he has cows and ewes,
And goats he has eneuch, lady,
And you, and twenty thousand merks,
Will make me a man complete, lady." 40

EPPIE MORRIE.

From Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_, p. 40.

"This ballad is probably much more than a century old, though the circumstances which have given rise to it were fortunately too common to preclude the possibility of its being of a later date. Although evidently founded on fact, the editor has not hitherto discovered the particular circumstances out of which it has originated."

Four and twenty Highland men
Came a' from Carrie side,
To steal awa' Eppie Morrie,
'Cause she would not be a bride.

Out it's cam her mother, 5
It was a moonlight night,
She could not see her daughter.
The sands they shin'd so bright.

"Haud far awa' frae me, mother,
Haud far awa' frae me; 10
There's not a man in a' Strathdon
Shall wedded be with me."

They have taken Eppie Morrie,
And horseback bound her on,
And then awa' to the minister, 15
As fast as horse could gang.

He's taken out a pistol,
And set it to the minister's breast;
"Marry me, marry me, minister,
Or else I'll be your priest." 20

"Haud far awa' frae me, good sir,
Haud far awa' frae me;
For there's not a man in a' Strathdon
That shall married be with me."

"Haud far awa' frae me, Willie, 25
Haud far awa' frae me;
For I darna avow to marry you,
Except she's as willing as ye."

They have taken Eppie Morrie,
Since better could nae be, 30
And they're awa' to Carrie side,
As fast as horse could flee.

Then mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And all were bound for bed,
Then Willie an' Eppie Morrie 35
In one bed they were laid.

"Haud far awa' frae me, Willie,
Haud far awa' frae me;
Before I'll lose my maidenhead,
I'll try my strength with thee." 40

She took the cap from off her head,
And threw it to the way;
Said, "Ere I lose my maidenhead,
I'll fight with you till day."

Then early in the morning, 45
Before her clothes were on,
In came the maiden of Scalletter,
Gown and shirt alone.

"Get up, get up, young woman,
And drink the wine wi' me;" 50
"You might have called me maiden,
I'm sure as leal as thee."

"Wally fa' you, Willie,
That ye could nae prove a man,
And taen the lassie's maidenhead; 55
She would have hired your han'."

"Haud far awa' frae me, lady,
Haud far awa' frae me;
There's not a man in a' Strathdon,
The day shall wed wi' me." 60

Soon in there came Belbordlane,
With a pistol on every side;
"Come awa' hame, Eppie Morrie,
And there you'll be my bride."

"Go get to me a horse, Willie, 65
And get it like a man,
And send me back to my mother,
A maiden as I cam.

"The sun shines o'er the westlin hills,
By the light lamp of the moon, 70
Just saddle your horse, young John Forsyth,
And whistle, and I'll come soon."

MACPHERSON'S RANT.

This ballad, worthy of a hangman's pen, was first printed in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 161. It is found, mutilated and altered, with the title of _Macpherson's Lament_, in the _Thistle of Scotland_, p. 52.

The story of Macpherson is given as follows by a writer in the _New Monthly Magazine_, vol. i. p. 142, cited by Chambers, _Scottish Songs_, i. 84.

"James Macpherson was born of a beautiful gipsy, who, at a great wedding, attracted the notice of a half-intoxicated Highland gentleman. He acknowledged the child, and had him reared in his house, until he lost his life in bravely pursuing a hostile clan, to recover a spreach of cattle taken from Badenoch. The gipsy woman, hearing of this disaster, in her rambles the following summer, came and took away her boy; but she often returned with him, to wait upon his relations and clansmen, who never failed to clothe him well, besides giving money to his mother. He grew up to beauty, strength, and stature, rarely equalled. His sword is still preserved at Duff House, a residence of the Earl of Fife, and few men of our day could carry, far less wield it, as a weapon of war; and if it must be owned that his prowess was debased by the exploits of a free-booter, it is certain, no act of cruelty, no robbery of the widow, the fatherless, or distressed, and no murder, were ever perpetrated under his command. He often gave the spoils of the rich to relieve the poor; and all his tribe were restrained from many atrocities of rapine by the awe of his mighty arm. Indeed, it is said that a dispute with an aspiring and savage man of his tribe, who wished to rob a gentleman's house while his wife and two children lay on the bier for interment, was the cause of his being betrayed to the vengeance of the law. The magistrates of Aberdeen were exasperated at Macpherson's escape, and bribed a girl in that city to allure and deliver him into their hands. There is a platform before the jail, at the top of a stair, and a door below. When Macpherson's capture was made known to his comrades by the frantic girl, who had been so credulous as to believe the magistrates only wanted to hear the wonderful performer on the violin, his cousin, Donald Macpherson, a gentleman of Herculean powers, did not disdain to come from Badenoch, and to join a gipsy, Peter Brown, in liberating the prisoner. On a market-day they brought several assistants; and swift horses were stationed at a convenient distance. Donald Macpherson and Peter Brown forced the jail; and while Peter Brown went to help the heavily-fettered James Macpherson in moving away, Donald Macpherson guarded the jail-door with a drawn sword. Many persons assembled at the market had experienced James Macpherson's humanity, or had shared his bounty; and they crowded round the jail as in mere curiosity, but, in fact, to obstruct the civil authorities in their attempts to prevent a rescue. A butcher, however, was resolved to detain Macpherson, expecting a large recompense from the magistrates; he sprung up the stairs, and leaped from the platform upon Donald Macpherson, whom he dashed to the ground by the force and weight of his body. Donald Macpherson soon recovered, to make a desperate resistance; and the combatants tore off each other's clothes. The butcher got a glimpse of his dog upon the platform, and called him to his aid; but Macpherson, with admirable presence of mind, snatched up his own plaid, which lay near, and threw it over the butcher, thus misleading the instinct of his canine adversary. The dog darted with fury upon the plaid, and terribly lacerated his master's thigh. In the mean time, James Macpherson had been carried out by Peter Brown, and was soon joined by Donald Macpherson, who was quickly covered by some friendly spectator with a hat and great coat. The magistrates ordered webs from the shops to be drawn across the Gallowgate; but Donald Macpherson cut them asunder with his sword, and James, the late prisoner, got off on horseback. He was, some time after, betrayed by a man of his own tribe: and was the last person executed at Banff, previous to the abolition of hereditable jurisdiction. He was an admirable performer on the violin; and his talent for composition is still evidenced by Macpherson's Rant, and Macpherson's Pibroch. He performed these tunes at the foot of the fatal tree; and then asked if he had any friend in the crowd to whom a last gift of his instrument would be acceptable. No man had hardihood to claim friendship with a delinquent, in whose crimes the acknowledgment might implicate an avowed acquaintance. As no friend came forward, Macpherson said, the companion of so many gloomy hours should perish with him; and, breaking the violin over his knees, he threw away the fragments. Donald Macpherson picked up the neck of the violin, which to this day is preserved, as a valuable memento, by the family of Cluny, chieftain of the Macphersons."

Burns's magnificent death-song, _McPherson's Farewell_, is too well known to require more than an allusion.

I've spent my time in rioting,
Debauch'd my health and strength;
I've pillag'd, plunder'd, murdered,
But now, alas! at length,
I'm brought to punishment direct, 5
Pale death draws near to me;
This end I never did project,
To hang upon a tree.

To hang upon a tree! a tree!
That curs'd unhappy death! 10
Like to a wolf to worried be,
And choaked in the breath.
My very heart would surely break,
When this I think upon,
Did not my courage singular 15
Bid pensive thoughts begone.

No man on earth that draweth breath,
More courage had than I;
I dar'd my foes unto their face,
And would not from them fly. 20
This grandeur stout, I did keep out,
Like Hector, manfullie:
Then wonder one like me, so stout,
Should hang upon a tree!

Th' Egyptian band I did command, 25
With courage more by far,
Than ever did a general
His soldiers in the war.
Being fear'd by all, both great and small,
I liv'd most joyfullie: 30
O! curse upon this fate of mine,
To hang upon a tree!

As for my life, I do not care,
If justice would take place,
And bring my fellow plunderers 35
Unto this same disgrace.
For Peter Brown, that notour loon,
Escap'd and was made free;
O! curse upon this fate of mine,
To hang upon a tree! 40

Both law and justice buried are,
And fraud and guile succeed;
The guilty pass unpunished,
If money intercede.
The Laird of Grant, that Highland saint, 45
His mighty majestie,
He pleads the cause of Peter Brown,
And lets Macpherson die.

The destiny of my life, contriv'd
By those whom I oblig'd, 50
Rewarded me much ill for good,
And left me no refuge.
For Braco Duff, in rage enough,
He first laid hands on me;
And if that death would not prevent, 55
Avenged would I be.

As for my life, it is but short,
When I shall be no more;
To part with life I am content,
As any heretofore. 60
Therefore, good people all, take heed,
This warning take by me,
According to the lives you lead,
Rewarded you shall be.