54. The place of execution at Carlisle.—P. M.61. This was a house of strength held by the Armstrongs. The ruins at present form a sheep-fold on the farm of Reidsmoss, belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch.—S.94. The Laird of Mangerton was chief of the clan Armstrong—S.103. Hamstringing a horse is termed, in the Border dialect,tying him with St. Mary's knot. Dickie used this cruel expedient to prevent a pursuit. It appears from the narration, that the horses left unhurt, belonged to fair Johnie Armstrang, his brother Willie, and the Laird's Jock—of which Dickie carried off two, and left that of the Laird's Jock, probably out of gratitude for the protection he had afforded him on his arrival.—S.136. A rising-ground on Cannobie, on the borders of Liddesdale.—P. M.188. The commendation of the Laird's Jock's honesty seems but indifferently founded; for, in July, 1586, a bill was fouled against him, Dick of Dryup, and others, by the Deputy of Bewcastle, at a warden-meeting, for 400 head of cattle taken in open foray from the Drysike in Bewcastle: and in September, 1587, another complaint appears at the instance of one Andrew Rutlege of the Nook, against the Laird's Jock, and his accomplices, for 50 kine and oxen, besides furniture, to the amount of 100 merks sterling. See Bell's MSS., as quoted in theHistory of Cumberland and Westmoreland. In Sir Richard Maitland's poem against the thieves of Liddesdale, he thus commemorates the Laird's Jock:—"They spuilye puir men of their pakis,They leif them nocht on bed nor bakis:Baith hen and cok,With reil and rok,TheLairdis JockAll with him takis."—S.
54. The place of execution at Carlisle.—P. M.
61. This was a house of strength held by the Armstrongs. The ruins at present form a sheep-fold on the farm of Reidsmoss, belonging to the Duke of Buccleuch.—S.
94. The Laird of Mangerton was chief of the clan Armstrong—S.
103. Hamstringing a horse is termed, in the Border dialect,tying him with St. Mary's knot. Dickie used this cruel expedient to prevent a pursuit. It appears from the narration, that the horses left unhurt, belonged to fair Johnie Armstrang, his brother Willie, and the Laird's Jock—of which Dickie carried off two, and left that of the Laird's Jock, probably out of gratitude for the protection he had afforded him on his arrival.—S.
136. A rising-ground on Cannobie, on the borders of Liddesdale.—P. M.
188. The commendation of the Laird's Jock's honesty seems but indifferently founded; for, in July, 1586, a bill was fouled against him, Dick of Dryup, and others, by the Deputy of Bewcastle, at a warden-meeting, for 400 head of cattle taken in open foray from the Drysike in Bewcastle: and in September, 1587, another complaint appears at the instance of one Andrew Rutlege of the Nook, against the Laird's Jock, and his accomplices, for 50 kine and oxen, besides furniture, to the amount of 100 merks sterling. See Bell's MSS., as quoted in theHistory of Cumberland and Westmoreland. In Sir Richard Maitland's poem against the thieves of Liddesdale, he thus commemorates the Laird's Jock:—
"They spuilye puir men of their pakis,They leif them nocht on bed nor bakis:Baith hen and cok,With reil and rok,TheLairdis JockAll with him takis."—S.
"They spuilye puir men of their pakis,They leif them nocht on bed nor bakis:Baith hen and cok,With reil and rok,TheLairdis JockAll with him takis."—S.
From Caw'sPoetical Museum, p. 145.
The rescue of a prisoner from the hands of justice was a very favourite subject with ballad-makers, and, it is to be feared, no uncommon event in the actual experience of the police of former days. We have in the fifth volume seen how such an affair was conductedby Robin Hood and his associates; and inKinmont Williehave had an authenticated account of a remarkable exploit of this description at the close of the reign of Elizabeth. The two ballads which follow have this same theme; but only the authority of tradition.Jock o' the Sidehas one circumstance in common withKinmont Willie—the daring passage of the river: withArchie of Ca'fieldit agrees throughout.
Jock o' the Side would seem to have been nephew to the Laird of Mangertoun (the chief of the clan Armstrong), and consequently cousin to the Laird's Jock. Scott suggests that he was probably brother to Christie of the Syde, mentioned in the list of Border clans, 1597. Both of these worthies receive special notice in Maitland's complaintAgainst the Thieves of Liddisdale.
"He is weil kend, Johne of the Syde;A greater thief did never ryde;He nevir tyrisFor to brek byris,Our muir and myrisOuir gude ane guide."
"He is weil kend, Johne of the Syde;A greater thief did never ryde;He nevir tyrisFor to brek byris,Our muir and myrisOuir gude ane guide."
Scott has pointed out that Jock o' the Side assisted the Earl of Westmoreland in his escape after his insurrection with the Earl of Northumberland, in the twelfth year of Elizabeth.
"Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid,But I wat they had better staid at hame;For Mitchel o' Winfield he is dead,And my son Johnie is prisoner ta'en."For Mangerton-House Auld Downie is gane,5Her coats she has kilted up to her knee;And down the water wi' speed she rins,While tears in spaits fa' fast frae her eie.Then up and bespake the Lord Mangerton,"What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?"10"Bad news, bad news, my Lord Mangerton;Mitchel is kill'd, and tane they hae my son Johnie.""Ne'er fear, sister Downie," quo' Mangerton;"I hae yokes of oxen, four and twentie;My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel fill'd,15And I'll part wi' them a', ere Johnie shall die."Three men I'll take to set him free,Weel harness'd a' wi' best o' steel;The English rogues may hear, and drieThe weight o' their braid-swords to feel.20"The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa,O Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be;Thy coat is blue, thou has been true,Since England banish'd thee, to me."Now Hobie was an English man,25In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born;But his misdeeds they were sae great,They banish'd him ne'er to return.Lord Mangerton them orders gave,"Your horses the wrang way maun a' be shod;30Like gentlemen ye must not seem,But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road."Your armour gude ye maunna shaw,Nor ance appear like men o' weir;As country lads be all array'd,35Wi' branks and brecham on ilk mare."Sae now a' their horses are shod the wrang way,And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine;Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse behind,And on they rode for the water o' Tyne.40At theCholerfordthey a' light down,And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon,A tree they cut, wi' fifteen naggs upo' ilk side,To climb up the wa' o' Newcastle town.But when they cam to Newcastle town,45And were alighted at the wa',They fand their tree three ells o'er laigh,They fand their stick baith short and sma'.Then up and spake the Laird's ain Jock,"There's naething for't, the gates we maun force;"50But when they cam the gates unto,A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung,Wi' hand or foot he ne'er play'd paw;His life and his keys at anes they hae tane,55And cast his body ahind the wa'.Now soon they reach Newcastle jail,And to the pris'ner thus they call;"Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the Side,Or is thou wearied o' thy thrall?"60Jock answers thus, wi' dolefu' tone—"Aft, aft I wake—I seldom sleip:But wha's this kens my name sae weel,And thus to hear my waes do[es] seek?"Then up and spake the good Laird's Jock,65"Ne'er fear ye now, my billie," quo' he;"For here's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat,And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free.""O had thy tongue, and speak nae mair,And o' thy tawk now let me be;70For if a' Liddisdale were here the night,The morn's the day that I maun die."Full fifteen stane o' Spanish iron,They hae laid a' right sair on me;Wi' locks and keys I am fast bound75Into this dungeon mirk and drearie.""Fear ye no that," quo' the Laird's Jock;"A faint heart ne'er wan a fair ladie;Work thou within, we'll work without,And I'll be bound we set thee free."80The first strong dore that they came at,They loosed it without a key;The next chain'd dore that they cam at,They gar'd it a' in flinders flee.The pris'ner now, upo' his back,85The Laird's Jock's gotten up fu' hie;And down the stair, him, irons and a',Wi' nae sma' speed and joy brings he."Now, Jock, I wat," quo' Hobie Noble,"Part o' the weight ye may lay on me;"90"I wat weel no!" quo' the Laird's Jock,"I count him lighter than a flee."Sae out at the gates they a' are gane,The pris'ner's set on horseback hie;And now wi' speed they've tane the gate,95While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonlie."O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride,Wi' baith your feet upo' ae side!Sae weel's ye're harness'd, and sae trig,In troth ye sit like ony bride!"100The night, tho' wat, they didna mind,But hied them on fu' mirrilie,Until they cam to Cholerford brae,Where the water ran like mountains hie.But when they came to Cholerford,105There they met with an auld man;Says—"Honest man, will the water ride?Tell us in haste, if that ye can.""I wat weel no," quo' the good auld man;"Here I hae liv'd this threty yeirs and three,110And I ne'er yet saw the Tyne sae big,Nor rinning ance sae like a sea."Then up and spake the Laird's saft Wat,The greatest coward in the company—"Now halt, now halt, we needna try't;115The day is com'd we a' maun die!""Poor faint-hearted thief!" quo' the Laird's ain Jock,"There'll nae man die but he that's fie;I'll lead ye a' right safely through;Lift ye the pris'ner on ahint me."120Sae now the water they a' hae tane,By anes and twas they a' swam through;"Here are we a' safe," says the Laird's Jock,"And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?"They scarce the ither side had won,125When twenty men they saw pursue;Frae Newcastle town they had been sent,A' English lads, right good and true.But when theland-sergeantthe water saw,"It winna ride, my lads," quo' he;130Then out he cries—"Ye the pris'ner may take,But leave the irons, I pray, to me.""I wat weel no," cry'd the Laird's Jock,"I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be:My good grey mare—for I am sure,135She's bought them a' fu' dear frae thee."Sae now they're away for Liddisdale,E'en as fast as they cou'd them hie;The pris'ner 's brought to his ain fire-side,And there o's aims they make him free.140"Now, Jock, my billie," quo' a' the three,"The day was com'd thou was to die;But thou's as weel at thy ain fire-side,Now sitting, I think, 'tween thee and me."They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl,145And after it they maun hae anither,And thus the night they a' hae spent,Just as they had been brither and brither.
"Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid,But I wat they had better staid at hame;For Mitchel o' Winfield he is dead,And my son Johnie is prisoner ta'en."
For Mangerton-House Auld Downie is gane,5Her coats she has kilted up to her knee;And down the water wi' speed she rins,While tears in spaits fa' fast frae her eie.
Then up and bespake the Lord Mangerton,"What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?"10"Bad news, bad news, my Lord Mangerton;Mitchel is kill'd, and tane they hae my son Johnie."
"Ne'er fear, sister Downie," quo' Mangerton;"I hae yokes of oxen, four and twentie;My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel fill'd,15And I'll part wi' them a', ere Johnie shall die.
"Three men I'll take to set him free,Weel harness'd a' wi' best o' steel;The English rogues may hear, and drieThe weight o' their braid-swords to feel.20
"The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa,O Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be;Thy coat is blue, thou has been true,Since England banish'd thee, to me."
Now Hobie was an English man,25In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born;But his misdeeds they were sae great,They banish'd him ne'er to return.
Lord Mangerton them orders gave,"Your horses the wrang way maun a' be shod;30Like gentlemen ye must not seem,But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road.
"Your armour gude ye maunna shaw,Nor ance appear like men o' weir;As country lads be all array'd,35Wi' branks and brecham on ilk mare."
Sae now a' their horses are shod the wrang way,And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine;Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse behind,And on they rode for the water o' Tyne.40
At theCholerfordthey a' light down,And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon,A tree they cut, wi' fifteen naggs upo' ilk side,To climb up the wa' o' Newcastle town.
But when they cam to Newcastle town,45And were alighted at the wa',They fand their tree three ells o'er laigh,They fand their stick baith short and sma'.
Then up and spake the Laird's ain Jock,"There's naething for't, the gates we maun force;"50But when they cam the gates unto,A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.
His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung,Wi' hand or foot he ne'er play'd paw;His life and his keys at anes they hae tane,55And cast his body ahind the wa'.
Now soon they reach Newcastle jail,And to the pris'ner thus they call;"Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the Side,Or is thou wearied o' thy thrall?"60
Jock answers thus, wi' dolefu' tone—"Aft, aft I wake—I seldom sleip:But wha's this kens my name sae weel,And thus to hear my waes do[es] seek?"
Then up and spake the good Laird's Jock,65"Ne'er fear ye now, my billie," quo' he;"For here's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat,And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free."
"O had thy tongue, and speak nae mair,And o' thy tawk now let me be;70For if a' Liddisdale were here the night,The morn's the day that I maun die.
"Full fifteen stane o' Spanish iron,They hae laid a' right sair on me;Wi' locks and keys I am fast bound75Into this dungeon mirk and drearie."
"Fear ye no that," quo' the Laird's Jock;"A faint heart ne'er wan a fair ladie;Work thou within, we'll work without,And I'll be bound we set thee free."80
The first strong dore that they came at,They loosed it without a key;The next chain'd dore that they cam at,They gar'd it a' in flinders flee.
The pris'ner now, upo' his back,85The Laird's Jock's gotten up fu' hie;And down the stair, him, irons and a',Wi' nae sma' speed and joy brings he.
"Now, Jock, I wat," quo' Hobie Noble,"Part o' the weight ye may lay on me;"90"I wat weel no!" quo' the Laird's Jock,"I count him lighter than a flee."
Sae out at the gates they a' are gane,The pris'ner's set on horseback hie;And now wi' speed they've tane the gate,95While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonlie.
"O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride,Wi' baith your feet upo' ae side!Sae weel's ye're harness'd, and sae trig,In troth ye sit like ony bride!"100
The night, tho' wat, they didna mind,But hied them on fu' mirrilie,Until they cam to Cholerford brae,Where the water ran like mountains hie.
But when they came to Cholerford,105There they met with an auld man;Says—"Honest man, will the water ride?Tell us in haste, if that ye can."
"I wat weel no," quo' the good auld man;"Here I hae liv'd this threty yeirs and three,110And I ne'er yet saw the Tyne sae big,Nor rinning ance sae like a sea."
Then up and spake the Laird's saft Wat,The greatest coward in the company—"Now halt, now halt, we needna try't;115The day is com'd we a' maun die!"
"Poor faint-hearted thief!" quo' the Laird's ain Jock,"There'll nae man die but he that's fie;I'll lead ye a' right safely through;Lift ye the pris'ner on ahint me."120
Sae now the water they a' hae tane,By anes and twas they a' swam through;"Here are we a' safe," says the Laird's Jock,"And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?"
They scarce the ither side had won,125When twenty men they saw pursue;Frae Newcastle town they had been sent,A' English lads, right good and true.
But when theland-sergeantthe water saw,"It winna ride, my lads," quo' he;130Then out he cries—"Ye the pris'ner may take,But leave the irons, I pray, to me."
"I wat weel no," cry'd the Laird's Jock,"I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be:My good grey mare—for I am sure,135She's bought them a' fu' dear frae thee."
Sae now they're away for Liddisdale,E'en as fast as they cou'd them hie;The pris'ner 's brought to his ain fire-side,And there o's aims they make him free.140
"Now, Jock, my billie," quo' a' the three,"The day was com'd thou was to die;But thou's as weel at thy ain fire-side,Now sitting, I think, 'tween thee and me."
They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl,145And after it they maun hae anither,And thus the night they a' hae spent,Just as they had been brither and brither.
41. Cholerford is a ford on the Tyne, above Hexham.—S.129. The land-sergeant (mentioned also inHobbie Noble) was an officer under the warden, to whom was committed the apprehending of delinquents, and the care of the public peace.—S.
41. Cholerford is a ford on the Tyne, above Hexham.—S.
129. The land-sergeant (mentioned also inHobbie Noble) was an officer under the warden, to whom was committed the apprehending of delinquents, and the care of the public peace.—S.
Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 116.
This is substantially the same story asJock o' the Side.Another version from Motherwell's collection, is subjoined.
"Ca'field, or Calfield," says Scott, "is a place in Wauchopdale, belonging of old to the Armstrongs. In the account betwixt the English and Scottish Marches, Jock and Geordie of Ca'field, then called Calf-hill, are repeatedly marked as delinquents.History of Westmoreland and Cumberland, vol. i. Introduction, p. 33."
As I was a-walking mine alane,It was by the dawning of the day,I heard twa brithers make their mane,And I listen'd weel to what they did say.The youngest to the eldest said,5"Blythe and merrie how can we be?There were three brithren of us born,And ane of us is condemn'd to die.""And ye wad be merrie, and ye wad be sad,What the better wad billy Archie be?10Unless I had thirty men to mysell,And a' to ride in my cumpanie."Ten to hald the horses' heads,And other ten the watch to be,And ten to break up the strong prison,15Where billy Archie he does lie."Then up and spak himmettled John Hall,(The luve of Teviotdale aye was he,)"An I had eleven men to mysell,It's aye the twalt man I wad be."20Then up bespak him coarse Ca'field,(I wot and little gude worth was he,)"Thirty men is few anew,And a' to ride in our companie."There was horsing, horsing in haste,25And there was marching on the lee,Until they cam to Murraywhate,And they lighted there right speedilie."A smith! a smith!" Dickie he cries,"A smith, a smith, right speedilie,30To turn back the caukers of our horses' shoon;For it's unkensome we wad be.""There lives a smith on the water-side,Will shoe my little black mare for me;And I've a crown in my pocket,35And every groat of it I wad gie.""The night is mirk, and it's very mirk,And by candle-light I canna weel see;The night is mirk, and it's very pit mirk,And there will never a nail ca' right for me."40"Shame fa' you and your trade baith,Canna beet a good fellow by your mystery;But leeze me on thee, my little black mare,Thou's worth thy weight in gold to me."There was horsing, horsing in haste,45And there was marching upon the lee,Until they cam to Dumfries port,And they lighted there right speedilie."There's five of us will hold the horse,And other five will watchmen be:"50"But wha's the man among ye a',Will gae to the Tolbooth door wi' me?"O up then spak him mettled John Hall,(Frae the Laigh Teviotdale was he,)"If it should cost my life this very night,55I'll gae to the Tolbooth door wi' thee.""Be of gude cheir, now, Archie, lad,Be of gude cheir, now, dear billie!Work thou within, and we without,And the morn thou'se dine at Ca'field wi' me."O Jockie Hall stepp'd to the door,61And he bended low back his knee,And he made the bolts, the door hang on,Loup frae the wa' right wantonlie.He took the prisoner on his back,65And down the Tolbooth stair cam he:The black mare stood ready at the door,I wot a foot ne'er stirred she.They laid the links out owre her neck,And that was hergold twistto be;70And they cam doun thro' Dumfries toun,And wow but they cam speedilie!The live-lang night these twelve men rade,And aye till they were right wearie,Until they cam to the Murraywhate,75And they lighted there right speedilie."A smith! a smith!" then Dickie he cries,"A smith, a smith, right speedilie,To file the irons frae my dear brither,For forward, forward we wad be."80They hadna filed a shackle of iron,A shackle of iron but barely thrie,When out and spak young Simon brave,"O dinna you see what I do see?"Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon,85Wi' a hundred men in his companie;This night will be our lyke-wake night,The morn the day we a' maun die."O there was mounting, mounting in haste,And there was marching upon the lee;90Until they cam to Annan water,And it was flowing like the sea."My mare is young and very skeigh,And in o' the weil she will drown me;But ye'll take mine, and I'll take thine,95And sune through the water we sall be."Then up and spak him, coarse Ca'field,(I wot and little gude worth was he,)"We had better lose ane than lose a' the lave;We'll lose the prisoner, we'll gae free."100"Shame fa' you and your lands baith!Wad ye e'en your lands to your born billy?But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare,And yet thro' the water we sall be."Now they did swim that wan water,105And wow but they swam bonnilie!Until they cam to the other side,And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily."Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon!Come thro' and drink some wine wi' me!110For there is an ale-house here hard by,And it shall not cost thee ae penny.""Throw me my irons," quo' Lieutenant Gordon;"I wot they cost me dear eneugh;""The shame a ma," quo' mettled John Ha',115"They'll be gude shackles to my pleugh.""Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon!Come thro', and drink some wine wi' me!Yestreen I was your prisoner,But now this morning am I free."120
As I was a-walking mine alane,It was by the dawning of the day,I heard twa brithers make their mane,And I listen'd weel to what they did say.
The youngest to the eldest said,5"Blythe and merrie how can we be?There were three brithren of us born,And ane of us is condemn'd to die."
"And ye wad be merrie, and ye wad be sad,What the better wad billy Archie be?10Unless I had thirty men to mysell,And a' to ride in my cumpanie.
"Ten to hald the horses' heads,And other ten the watch to be,And ten to break up the strong prison,15Where billy Archie he does lie."
Then up and spak himmettled John Hall,(The luve of Teviotdale aye was he,)"An I had eleven men to mysell,It's aye the twalt man I wad be."20
Then up bespak him coarse Ca'field,(I wot and little gude worth was he,)"Thirty men is few anew,And a' to ride in our companie."
There was horsing, horsing in haste,25And there was marching on the lee,Until they cam to Murraywhate,And they lighted there right speedilie.
"A smith! a smith!" Dickie he cries,"A smith, a smith, right speedilie,30To turn back the caukers of our horses' shoon;For it's unkensome we wad be."
"There lives a smith on the water-side,Will shoe my little black mare for me;And I've a crown in my pocket,35And every groat of it I wad gie."
"The night is mirk, and it's very mirk,And by candle-light I canna weel see;The night is mirk, and it's very pit mirk,And there will never a nail ca' right for me."40
"Shame fa' you and your trade baith,Canna beet a good fellow by your mystery;But leeze me on thee, my little black mare,Thou's worth thy weight in gold to me."
There was horsing, horsing in haste,45And there was marching upon the lee,Until they cam to Dumfries port,And they lighted there right speedilie.
"There's five of us will hold the horse,And other five will watchmen be:"50"But wha's the man among ye a',Will gae to the Tolbooth door wi' me?"
O up then spak him mettled John Hall,(Frae the Laigh Teviotdale was he,)"If it should cost my life this very night,55I'll gae to the Tolbooth door wi' thee."
"Be of gude cheir, now, Archie, lad,Be of gude cheir, now, dear billie!Work thou within, and we without,And the morn thou'se dine at Ca'field wi' me."
O Jockie Hall stepp'd to the door,61And he bended low back his knee,And he made the bolts, the door hang on,Loup frae the wa' right wantonlie.
He took the prisoner on his back,65And down the Tolbooth stair cam he:The black mare stood ready at the door,I wot a foot ne'er stirred she.
They laid the links out owre her neck,And that was hergold twistto be;70And they cam doun thro' Dumfries toun,And wow but they cam speedilie!
The live-lang night these twelve men rade,And aye till they were right wearie,Until they cam to the Murraywhate,75And they lighted there right speedilie.
"A smith! a smith!" then Dickie he cries,"A smith, a smith, right speedilie,To file the irons frae my dear brither,For forward, forward we wad be."80
They hadna filed a shackle of iron,A shackle of iron but barely thrie,When out and spak young Simon brave,"O dinna you see what I do see?
"Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon,85Wi' a hundred men in his companie;This night will be our lyke-wake night,The morn the day we a' maun die."
O there was mounting, mounting in haste,And there was marching upon the lee;90Until they cam to Annan water,And it was flowing like the sea.
"My mare is young and very skeigh,And in o' the weil she will drown me;But ye'll take mine, and I'll take thine,95And sune through the water we sall be."
Then up and spak him, coarse Ca'field,(I wot and little gude worth was he,)"We had better lose ane than lose a' the lave;We'll lose the prisoner, we'll gae free."100
"Shame fa' you and your lands baith!Wad ye e'en your lands to your born billy?But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare,And yet thro' the water we sall be."
Now they did swim that wan water,105And wow but they swam bonnilie!Until they cam to the other side,And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily.
"Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon!Come thro' and drink some wine wi' me!110For there is an ale-house here hard by,And it shall not cost thee ae penny."
"Throw me my irons," quo' Lieutenant Gordon;"I wot they cost me dear eneugh;""The shame a ma," quo' mettled John Ha',115"They'll be gude shackles to my pleugh."
"Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon!Come thro', and drink some wine wi' me!Yestreen I was your prisoner,But now this morning am I free."120
17. Mettled John Hall, from the laigh Teviotdale, is perhaps John Hall of Newbigging, mentioned in the list of Border clans as one of the chief men of name residing on the Middle Marches in 1597.—S.70. Thegold twistmeans the small gilded chains drawn across the chest of a war-horse, as a part of his caparison.—S.
17. Mettled John Hall, from the laigh Teviotdale, is perhaps John Hall of Newbigging, mentioned in the list of Border clans as one of the chief men of name residing on the Middle Marches in 1597.—S.
70. Thegold twistmeans the small gilded chains drawn across the chest of a war-horse, as a part of his caparison.—S.
Motherwell'sMinstrelsy, p. 335.
A North-Country version ofthe preceding ballad. There is another copy in Buchan's larger collection, i. 111,The Three Brothers.
"Seven years have I loved my love,And seven years my love's loved me,But now to-morrow is the dayThat Billie Archie, my love, must die."Out then spoke him Little Dickie,5And still the best fellow was he;"Had I but five men and mysell,Then we would borrow Billie Archie."Out it spoke him Caff o' Lin,And still the worst fellow was he;10"Ye shall have five men and yoursell,And I will bear you companie."We will not go like to dragoons,Nor yet will we like grenadiers;But we will go like corn-dealers,15And lay our brechams on our meares."And twa of us will watch the road,And other twa between will gang,And I will go to jail-house door,And hold the prisoner unthought lang."20"Wha is this at the jail-house door,Sa weel as they do ken the gin?""It's I mysell," said him Little Dickie,"And O sae fain's I would be in!""Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,25Awa, let all your folly be;If the Lord Lieutenant come on you,Like unto dogs he'll cause you die.""Hold you, hold you, Billy Archie,And now let all your folly be;30Though I die without, you'll not die within,For borrowed shall your body be.""Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,Awa, let all this folly be;An hundred pounds of Spanish irons35Is all bound on my fair bodie."Wi' plough coulters and gavelocksThey made the jail-house door to flee;"And in God's name," said Little Dickie,"Cast you the prisoner behind me."40They had not rade a great way off,With all the haste that ever could be,Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant,With a hundred men in companie.But when they cam to wan water,45It now was rumbling like the sea;Then were they got into a strait,As great a strait as well could be.Then out did speak him Caff o' Lin,And aye the warst fellow was he:50"Now God be with my wife and bairns,For fatherless my babes will be."My horse is young, he cannot swim;The water's deep, and will not wade;My children must be fatherless,55My wife a widow, whate'er betide."O then cried out him Little Dickie,And still the best fellow was he:"Take you my mare, I'll take your horse,And Devil drown my mare and thee!"60Now they have taken the wan water,Though it was roaring like the sea;And when they gat to the other side,I wat they bragged right crousilie."Come thro', come thro', now, Lord Lieutenant,O do come thro', I pray of thee;65There is an alehouse not far off,We'll dine you and your companie.""Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,O now let all your taunting be;70There's not a man in the king's armyThat would have tried what's done by thee."Cast back, cast back my fetters again,Cast back my fetters, I say to thee;And get you gane the way you came,75I wish no prisoners like to thee.""I have a mare, she's called Meg,The best in all our low countrie;If she gang barefoot till they're done,An ill death may your Lordship die."80
"Seven years have I loved my love,And seven years my love's loved me,But now to-morrow is the dayThat Billie Archie, my love, must die."
Out then spoke him Little Dickie,5And still the best fellow was he;"Had I but five men and mysell,Then we would borrow Billie Archie."
Out it spoke him Caff o' Lin,And still the worst fellow was he;10"Ye shall have five men and yoursell,And I will bear you companie.
"We will not go like to dragoons,Nor yet will we like grenadiers;But we will go like corn-dealers,15And lay our brechams on our meares.
"And twa of us will watch the road,And other twa between will gang,And I will go to jail-house door,And hold the prisoner unthought lang."20
"Wha is this at the jail-house door,Sa weel as they do ken the gin?""It's I mysell," said him Little Dickie,"And O sae fain's I would be in!"
"Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,25Awa, let all your folly be;If the Lord Lieutenant come on you,Like unto dogs he'll cause you die."
"Hold you, hold you, Billy Archie,And now let all your folly be;30Though I die without, you'll not die within,For borrowed shall your body be."
"Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,Awa, let all this folly be;An hundred pounds of Spanish irons35Is all bound on my fair bodie."
Wi' plough coulters and gavelocksThey made the jail-house door to flee;"And in God's name," said Little Dickie,"Cast you the prisoner behind me."40
They had not rade a great way off,With all the haste that ever could be,Till they espied the Lord Lieutenant,With a hundred men in companie.
But when they cam to wan water,45It now was rumbling like the sea;Then were they got into a strait,As great a strait as well could be.
Then out did speak him Caff o' Lin,And aye the warst fellow was he:50"Now God be with my wife and bairns,For fatherless my babes will be.
"My horse is young, he cannot swim;The water's deep, and will not wade;My children must be fatherless,55My wife a widow, whate'er betide."
O then cried out him Little Dickie,And still the best fellow was he:"Take you my mare, I'll take your horse,And Devil drown my mare and thee!"60
Now they have taken the wan water,Though it was roaring like the sea;And when they gat to the other side,I wat they bragged right crousilie.
"Come thro', come thro', now, Lord Lieutenant,O do come thro', I pray of thee;65There is an alehouse not far off,We'll dine you and your companie."
"Awa, awa, now, Little Dickie,O now let all your taunting be;70There's not a man in the king's armyThat would have tried what's done by thee.
"Cast back, cast back my fetters again,Cast back my fetters, I say to thee;And get you gane the way you came,75I wish no prisoners like to thee."
"I have a mare, she's called Meg,The best in all our low countrie;If she gang barefoot till they're done,An ill death may your Lordship die."80
From Caw'sPoetical Museum, p. 193.
"We have seen the hero of this ballad act a distinguished part in the deliverance of Jock o' the Side, and are now to learn the ungrateful return which the Armstrongs made him for his faithful services. Halbert, or Hobbie, Noble appears to have been one of those numerous English outlaws, who, being forced to fly their own country, had established themselves on the Scottish Borders. As Hobbie continued his depredations upon the English, they bribed some of his hosts, the Armstrongs, to decoy him into England under pretence of a predatory expedition. He was there delivered, by his treacherous companions, into the hands of the officers of justice, by whom he was conducted to Carlisle, and executed next morning. The Laird of Mangertoun, with whom Hobbie was in high favour, is said to have taken a severe revenge upon the traitors who betrayed him. The principal contriver of the scheme, called here Sim o' the Maynes, fled into England from the resentment of his chief; but experienced there the common fate of a traitor, being himself executed at Carlisle, about two months after Hobbie's death. Such is, at least, the tradition of Liddesdale. Sim o' the Maynes appears among the Armstrongs of Whitauch, in Liddesdale, in the list of Clans so often alluded to."—Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border, ii. 90.
Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in!That Liddisdale may safely say;For in it there was baith meat and drink,And corn unto our geldings gay.We were stout-hearted men and true,As England it did often say;But now we may turn our backs and fly,Since brave Noble is seld away.Now Hobie he was an English man,And born into Bewcastle dale;10But his misdeeds they were sae great,They banish'd him to Liddisdale.AtKershope footthe tryst was set,Kershope of the lily lee;And there was traitour Sim o'the Mains,15With him a private companie.Then Hobie has graith'd his body weel,I wat it was wi' baith good iron and steel;And he has pull'd out his fringed grey,And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel.20Then Hobie is down the water gane,E'en as fast as he may drie;Tho' they shoud a' brusten and broken their hearts,Frae that tryst Noble he would not be."Weel may ye be, my feiries five!25And aye, what is your wills wi' me?"Then they cry'd a' wi' ae consent,"Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me."Wilt thou with us in England ride,And thy safe warrand we will be?30If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,Upon his back that thou shalt be.""I dare not with you into England ride,The Land-sergeant has me at feid;I know not what evil may betide,35For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead."And Anton Shiel, he loves not me,For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;The greatEarl of Whitfieldloves me not,For nae gear frae me he e'er could keep.40"But will ye stay till the day gae down,Until the night come o'er the grund,And I'll be a guide worth ony twaThat may in Liddisdale be fund."Tho' dark the night as pick and tar,45I'll guide ye o'er yon hills fu' hie,And bring ye a' in safety back,If you'll be true and follow me."He's guided them o'er moss and muir,O'er hill and houp, and mony a down;50Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,And there, brave Noble, he lighted down.Then word is gane to the Land-sergeant,InAskirtonwhere that he lay—"The deer that ye hae hunted lang55Is seen into the Waste this day.""Then Hobie Noble is that deer!I wat he carries the style fu' hie;Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back,And set yourselves at little lee.60"Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,See they shaft their arrows on the wa'!WarnWilleva, andSpear Edom,And see the morn they meet me a'."Gar meet me on theRodrie-haugh,65And see it be by break o' day;And we will on toConscowthart-Green,For there, I think, we'll get our prey."Then Hobie Noble has dream'd a dream,In the Foulbogsheil where that he lay;70He thought his horse was 'neath him shot,And he himself got hard away.The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn,And I wat so even down fell the rain;If Hobie had no waken'd at that time,75In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain."Get up, get up, my feiries five!For I wat here makes a fu' ill day;And the warstcloakof this companie,I hope shall cross the Waste this day."80Now Hobie thought the gates were clear;But, ever alas! it was not sae:They were beset wi' cruel men and keen,That away brave Noble could not gae."Yet follow me, my feiries five,85And see of me ye keep good ray;And the worstcloakof this companieI hope shall cross the Waste this day."There was heaps of men now Hobie before,And other heaps was him behind,90That had he been as wight as Wallace was,Away brave Noble he could not win.Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword,But he did more than a laddies deed;In the midst of Conscouthart-Green,95He brake it o'er Jersawigham's head.Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble,Wi' his ain bowstring they band him sae;And I wat heart was ne'er sae sair,As when his ain five band him on the brae.100They have tane him for West Carlisle;They ask'd him if he knew the way;Whate'er he thought, yet little he said;He knew the way as well as they.They hae tane him up theRicker-gate;105The wives they cast their windows wide,And ilka wife to anither can say,"That's the man loos'd Jock o' the Side!""Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man?For it's nae man that I'm used like;110I'm but like a forfoughen hound,Has been fighting in a dirty syke."Then they hae tane him up thro' Carlisle town,And set him by the chimney fire;They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,115And that was little his desire.Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eatAnd after that a can o' beer;Then they cried a', wi' ae consent,"Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer.120"Confess my lord's horse, Hobie," they say,"And the morn in Carlisle thou's no die;""How shall I confess them?" Hobie says,"For I never saw them with mine eye."Then Hobie has sworn a fu' great aith—125By the day that he was gotten or born,He never had onything o' my lord's,That either eat him grass or corn."Now fare thee weel, sweetMangerton!For I think again I'll ne'er thee see:130I wad betray nae lad alive,For a' the goud in Christentie."And fare thee weel, now Liddisdale,Baith the hie land and the law!Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!135For goud and gear he'll sell ye a'."I'd rather be ca'd Hobie Noble,In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,Before I were ca'd traitor Mains,That eats and drinks of meal and maut."140
Foul fa' the breast first treason bred in!That Liddisdale may safely say;For in it there was baith meat and drink,And corn unto our geldings gay.
We were stout-hearted men and true,As England it did often say;But now we may turn our backs and fly,Since brave Noble is seld away.
Now Hobie he was an English man,And born into Bewcastle dale;10But his misdeeds they were sae great,They banish'd him to Liddisdale.
AtKershope footthe tryst was set,Kershope of the lily lee;And there was traitour Sim o'the Mains,15With him a private companie.
Then Hobie has graith'd his body weel,I wat it was wi' baith good iron and steel;And he has pull'd out his fringed grey,And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel.20
Then Hobie is down the water gane,E'en as fast as he may drie;Tho' they shoud a' brusten and broken their hearts,Frae that tryst Noble he would not be.
"Weel may ye be, my feiries five!25And aye, what is your wills wi' me?"Then they cry'd a' wi' ae consent,"Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.
"Wilt thou with us in England ride,And thy safe warrand we will be?30If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,Upon his back that thou shalt be."
"I dare not with you into England ride,The Land-sergeant has me at feid;I know not what evil may betide,35For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead.
"And Anton Shiel, he loves not me,For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;The greatEarl of Whitfieldloves me not,For nae gear frae me he e'er could keep.40
"But will ye stay till the day gae down,Until the night come o'er the grund,And I'll be a guide worth ony twaThat may in Liddisdale be fund.
"Tho' dark the night as pick and tar,45I'll guide ye o'er yon hills fu' hie,And bring ye a' in safety back,If you'll be true and follow me."
He's guided them o'er moss and muir,O'er hill and houp, and mony a down;50Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,And there, brave Noble, he lighted down.
Then word is gane to the Land-sergeant,InAskirtonwhere that he lay—"The deer that ye hae hunted lang55Is seen into the Waste this day."
"Then Hobie Noble is that deer!I wat he carries the style fu' hie;Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back,And set yourselves at little lee.60
"Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,See they shaft their arrows on the wa'!WarnWilleva, andSpear Edom,And see the morn they meet me a'.
"Gar meet me on theRodrie-haugh,65And see it be by break o' day;And we will on toConscowthart-Green,For there, I think, we'll get our prey."
Then Hobie Noble has dream'd a dream,In the Foulbogsheil where that he lay;70He thought his horse was 'neath him shot,And he himself got hard away.
The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn,And I wat so even down fell the rain;If Hobie had no waken'd at that time,75In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain.
"Get up, get up, my feiries five!For I wat here makes a fu' ill day;And the warstcloakof this companie,I hope shall cross the Waste this day."80
Now Hobie thought the gates were clear;But, ever alas! it was not sae:They were beset wi' cruel men and keen,That away brave Noble could not gae.
"Yet follow me, my feiries five,85And see of me ye keep good ray;And the worstcloakof this companieI hope shall cross the Waste this day."
There was heaps of men now Hobie before,And other heaps was him behind,90That had he been as wight as Wallace was,Away brave Noble he could not win.
Then Hobie he had but a laddies sword,But he did more than a laddies deed;In the midst of Conscouthart-Green,95He brake it o'er Jersawigham's head.
Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble,Wi' his ain bowstring they band him sae;And I wat heart was ne'er sae sair,As when his ain five band him on the brae.100
They have tane him for West Carlisle;They ask'd him if he knew the way;Whate'er he thought, yet little he said;He knew the way as well as they.
They hae tane him up theRicker-gate;105The wives they cast their windows wide,And ilka wife to anither can say,"That's the man loos'd Jock o' the Side!"
"Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man?For it's nae man that I'm used like;110I'm but like a forfoughen hound,Has been fighting in a dirty syke."
Then they hae tane him up thro' Carlisle town,And set him by the chimney fire;They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,115And that was little his desire.
Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eatAnd after that a can o' beer;Then they cried a', wi' ae consent,"Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer.120
"Confess my lord's horse, Hobie," they say,"And the morn in Carlisle thou's no die;""How shall I confess them?" Hobie says,"For I never saw them with mine eye."
Then Hobie has sworn a fu' great aith—125By the day that he was gotten or born,He never had onything o' my lord's,That either eat him grass or corn.
"Now fare thee weel, sweetMangerton!For I think again I'll ne'er thee see:130I wad betray nae lad alive,For a' the goud in Christentie.
"And fare thee weel, now Liddisdale,Baith the hie land and the law!Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!135For goud and gear he'll sell ye a'.
"I'd rather be ca'd Hobie Noble,In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,Before I were ca'd traitor Mains,That eats and drinks of meal and maut."140