The book of British ballads . On a circle of stones they placed the pot,On a circle of stones but barely nine ; They heated it red and fiery hot, Till the burnished brass did glimmer andshine. They rolld him up in a sheet of lead,A sheet of lead for a funeral pall; They plunged him in the cauldron red, And melted him, lead, and bones, and all. At the Skelf-hill, the cauldron stillThe men of Liddesdale can show ; And on the spot, where they boild the pot,The spreat and the deer-hair neer shall grow.

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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1840, bookidg, bookpublisherlondonjhow