THE OUTLAW.

Oh, let my lord laugh in his halls

When he the tale shall tell!

But woe to Jarlwell and its walls

When I shall laugh as well!

And he that laughs the last, lads,

Laughs well, laughs well!

He's lord of many a burg and farm

And mickle thralls and gold,

And I am but my own right arm,

My dwelling-place the wold.

But when we twain meet face to face,

He will hot laugh so bold.

The shame he chuckles as he shows

This time he need not tell;

I'll give his body to the crows,

And his black soul to Hell.

For he that laughs the last, lads,

Laughs well, laughs well!