"Goe toe, good mattes, and say the game, Zonder folkis ar in a fray; Lat sie how we can well with them, Into thair disaray. Goe, goe, it is not tyme to stay, 205 All for my bennisoune; Saue non this day ze may gar dye, Quhill ze the feild haue wonne."[L209]
Then Errol haisted to the hight, Whair he did battell byd; With him went Auchindoune and Gight,[L219] And Bonnitoune by his syd: 220 Whair manie gentillman did with him byd, Whos prais sould not be smored; Bot Capitane Ker, that was thair gyde, Red ay befoir my lord.
They war not manie men of werre, 225 Bot they war wonder trewe; With hagbutis, pistolet, bowe, and speare, They did thair foes persewe, Quhair bullettis, dartis, and arrowes flew, Als thick as haill or raine, 230 Quhilk manie hurt, and some they slew, Of horss and gentillmen.
Huntlie maid haist to succour him, And charged furiouslie, Quhair manie menis sight grew dim, 235 The shottis so thick did flie; Quhilk gart right manie doghtie die, Of some on euerie syd; Argyll with his tald hoste did flie, Bot Macklenne did abyd. 240
Macklene had one ane habershoune, Ilk lord had one ane jack; Togidder feirc[e]lie are they rune, With manie a gunes crack. The splenderis of thair spearis they break, 245 Flewe up into the air, Quhilk boore doune maney on thair back, Againe ros neuer mair.[L249]
"Alace, I sie ane soré sight," 265 Said the Laird of Macklenne; "Our feible folkis is tenne the flight, And left me myne allaine. Now must I flie, or els be slaine, Since they will not returne;" 270 With that he ran ouer ane dyne, Endlongis ane lytill burne.
Then after great Argylles hoste Some horssmen tuik the chess, Quha turned their backes for all thair bost, 275 Contrair the fooles say[s]. They cried "oh," with manie "alace," Bot neuir for mercie sought; Thairfoir the Gordones gaue no grace, Becaus they craved it nought. 280
Then some guidman perseiued sharpe,[L281] With Erroll and Huntlie, And thai with [a] capitane did carpe, Quhais name was Ogilvie. He sayis, "Gentillmen, lat see 285 Who maniest slaine slaydis;[L286] Save non this day ze may gar die, For pleadis, nor ransome paynes."[L288]
Lyk hartes, up howes and hillis thei ranne, Quhair horsmen might not winn: 290 "Reteir againe," quoth Huntlie then, "Quhair we did first begin. Heir lyes manie carved skinnes, With manie ane bloodie beard, For anie helpe, with litell dinne, 295 Sall rotte aboue the eard."