FOOTNOTES:

FOOTNOTES:[1167]Liddel-rack = a ford on the Liddel.[1168]lawing = reckoning.[1169]curch = kerchief, coif.[1170]lightly = treat disrespectfully.[1171]low = flame.[1172]splent = split, or overlapping armour.[1173]spauld = shoulder, épaule.[1174]Bateable Land = debateable land; a stretch of frontier between the Solway Firth and Scots Dyke, claimed by both nations.[1175]lear = lore.[1176]row-footed = rough-footed.[1177]stear = stir, commotion.[1178]forehammers = sledge-hammers.[1179]fley’d = scared.[1180]spier = inquire.[1181]mail = rent.[1182]wood = mad.[1183]furs = furrows.[1184]trew = trust.

[1167]Liddel-rack = a ford on the Liddel.

[1168]lawing = reckoning.

[1169]curch = kerchief, coif.

[1170]lightly = treat disrespectfully.

[1171]low = flame.

[1172]splent = split, or overlapping armour.

[1173]spauld = shoulder, épaule.

[1174]Bateable Land = debateable land; a stretch of frontier between the Solway Firth and Scots Dyke, claimed by both nations.

[1175]lear = lore.

[1176]row-footed = rough-footed.

[1177]stear = stir, commotion.

[1178]forehammers = sledge-hammers.

[1179]fley’d = scared.

[1180]spier = inquire.

[1181]mail = rent.

[1182]wood = mad.

[1183]furs = furrows.

[1184]trew = trust.

INow Liddesdale has ridden a raid,But I wat they had better hae staid at hame;For Michael o’ Winfield he is dead,And Jock o’ the Side is prisoner ta’en.IITo Sybill o’ the Side the tidings came;By the waterside there as she ranShe took her kirtle by the hemAnd fast to Mangerton she’s gane.IIIThen up and spoke her Lord Mangerton—‘What news, what news, my sister to me?’—‘Bad news, bad news! My Michael is slain;And they ha’e taken my son Johnie.’IVThe lords they wrang their fingers white,Ladyes did pull themsells by the hair,Crying ‘Alas and well-a day!For Jock o’ the Side we’ll never see mair!’V—‘Ne’er fear, sister Sybill,’ quo’ Mangerton;‘I have yokes of ousen, eighty and three;My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’ weil fill’d.I’ll part wi’ them a’ ere Johnie shall dee.VI‘Three men I’ll send to set him free,Well harness’d a’ wi’ the best o’ steel;The English louns may hear, and drieThe weight o’ their braid-swords to feel.VII‘The Laird’s Jock ane, the Laird’s Wat twa,O Hobbie Noble, thou ane maun be!Thy coat is blue, thou hast been true,Since England banish’d thee, to me.’VIIINow Hobbie was an English man,In Bewcastle dale was bred and born;But his misdeeds they were sae great,They banish’d him ne’er to return.IXLord Mangerton them orders gave,‘Your horses the wrang way maun be shod,Like gentlemen ye mauna seem,But look like corn-caugers[1185]ga’en the road.X‘Your armour gude ye mauna shaw,Nor yet appear like men o’ war;As country lads be a’ array’d,Wi’ branks[1186]and brecham[1187]on each mare.’XITheir horses are the wrang way shod,And Hobbie has mounted his grey sae fine;Wat on his auld horse, Jock on his bey,And on they rode for the water of Tyne.XIIBut when they came to Cholerton fordThey lighted down by the light o’ the moon,And a tree they cut, wi’ nogs on each side,To climb up the wa’ of Newcastle toun.XIIIBut when they cam to Newcastle toun,And down were alighted at the wa’,They fand thair tree three ells ower laigh[1188],They fand their stick baith short and sma’.XIVThen up spake the Laird’s ain Jock:‘There’s naething for’t; the gates we maun force.’—But when they cam the gate until,The porter withstood baith men and horse.XVHis neck in twa the Armstrangs wrang;Wi’ fute or hand he ne’er play’d pa[1189]!His life and his keys at anes they hae ta’en,And cast the body ahint the wa’.XVINow sune they reach Newcastle jail,And to the prisoner thus they call:‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o’ the Side,Or art thou weary of thy thrall?’XVIIJock answers thus, wi’ dolefu’ tone:‘Aft, aft I wake—I seldom sleep:But whae’s this kens my name sae weel,And thus to mese[1190]my waes does seek?’—XVIIIThen out and spak the gude Laird’s Jock,‘Now fear ye na, my billie[1191],’ quo’ he;‘For here are the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat,And Hobbie Noble to set thee free.’—XIX‘Now haud thy tongue, my gude Laird’s Jock,For ever, alas! this canna be;For if a’ Liddesdale were here the night,The morn’s the day that I maun dee.XX‘Full fifteen stane o’ Spanish iron,They hae laid a’ right sair on me;Wi’ locks and keys I am fast boundIn this dungeon dark and dreirie.’XXI‘Fear ye na 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 sworn we’ll set thee free.’XXIIThe first strong door that they cam at,They loosèd it without a key;The next chain’d door that they cam at,They garr’d it a’ to flinders flee.XXIIIThe prisoner now upon his backThe Laird’s Jock has gotten up fu’ hie;And, airns and a’, down the tolbooth[1192]stair,Wi’ nae sma’ speed and joy brings he.XXIV‘Now, Jock, my man,’ quo’ Hobbie Noble,‘Some o’ his weight ye may lay on me.’—‘I wat weel no!’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,‘I count him lighter than a flee.’XXVSae out at the gates they a’ are gane,The prisoner’s set on horseback hie;And now wi’ speed they’ve ta’en the gate,While ilk ane jokes fu’ wantonlie:XXVI‘O Jock! sae winsomely ye sit,Wi’ baith your feet upon ae side;Sae weel ye’re harneist, and sae trig,In troth ye sit like ony bride!’XXVIIThe night, tho’ wat, they did na mind,But hied them on fu’ merrilie,Until they cam to Cholerton brae,Where the water ran like mountains hie.XXVIIIBut when they cam to Cholerton ford,There they met with an auld man;Says—‘Honest man, will the water ride?Tell us in haste, if that ye can.’—XXIX‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the gude auld man;‘I hae lived here thretty years and three;Nor man nor horse can go ower Tyne,Except it were a horse of tree.’—XXXThen out and spoke the Laird’s saft Wat,The greatest coward in the companie:‘Now halt, now halt! we need na try’t;The day is come we a’ maun die!’—XXXI‘Puir faint-hearted thief!’ cried the Laird’s ain Jock,‘There’ll nae man die but him that’s fie[1193];I’ll guide ye a’ right safely thro’;Lift ye the pris’ner on ahint me.’XXXIIWi’ that the water they hae ta’en,By ane’s and twa’s they a’ swam thro’;‘Here are we a’ safe,’ quo’ the Laird’s Jock,‘And, puir faint Wat, what think ye now?’XXXIIIThey scarce the other brae had won,When twenty men they saw pursue;Frae Newcastle toun they had been sent,A’ English lads baith stout and true.XXXIVBut when the Land-sergeant the water saw,‘It winna ride, my lads,’ says he;Then cried aloud—‘The prisoner take,But leave the fetters, I pray, to me!’XXXV‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,‘I’ll keep them, shoon to my mare to be:My gude bay mare—for I am sure,She has bought them a’ right dear frae thee.’—XXXVISae now they are on to Liddesdale,E’en as fast as they could them hie;The prisoner is brought to his ain fireside,And there o’ his airns they mak him free.XXXVII‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo’ a’ the three,‘The day is comed thou was to die;But thou’s as weel at thy ain ingle-side,Now sitting, I think, ’twixt thee and me.’

Now Liddesdale has ridden a raid,But I wat they had better hae staid at hame;For Michael o’ Winfield he is dead,And Jock o’ the Side is prisoner ta’en.

To Sybill o’ the Side the tidings came;By the waterside there as she ranShe took her kirtle by the hemAnd fast to Mangerton she’s gane.

Then up and spoke her Lord Mangerton—‘What news, what news, my sister to me?’—‘Bad news, bad news! My Michael is slain;And they ha’e taken my son Johnie.’

The lords they wrang their fingers white,Ladyes did pull themsells by the hair,Crying ‘Alas and well-a day!For Jock o’ the Side we’ll never see mair!’

—‘Ne’er fear, sister Sybill,’ quo’ Mangerton;‘I have yokes of ousen, eighty and three;My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’ weil fill’d.I’ll part wi’ them a’ ere Johnie shall dee.

‘Three men I’ll send to set him free,Well harness’d a’ wi’ the best o’ steel;The English louns may hear, and drieThe weight o’ their braid-swords to feel.

‘The Laird’s Jock ane, the Laird’s Wat twa,O Hobbie Noble, thou ane maun be!Thy coat is blue, thou hast been true,Since England banish’d thee, to me.’

Now Hobbie was an English man,In 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 be shod,Like gentlemen ye mauna seem,But look like corn-caugers[1185]ga’en the road.

‘Your armour gude ye mauna shaw,Nor yet appear like men o’ war;As country lads be a’ array’d,Wi’ branks[1186]and brecham[1187]on each mare.’

Their horses are the wrang way shod,And Hobbie has mounted his grey sae fine;Wat on his auld horse, Jock on his bey,And on they rode for the water of Tyne.

But when they came to Cholerton fordThey lighted down by the light o’ the moon,And a tree they cut, wi’ nogs on each side,To climb up the wa’ of Newcastle toun.

But when they cam to Newcastle toun,And down were alighted at the wa’,They fand thair tree three ells ower laigh[1188],They fand their stick baith short and sma’.

Then up spake the Laird’s ain Jock:‘There’s naething for’t; the gates we maun force.’—But when they cam the gate until,The porter withstood baith men and horse.

His neck in twa the Armstrangs wrang;Wi’ fute or hand he ne’er play’d pa[1189]!His life and his keys at anes they hae ta’en,And cast the body ahint the wa’.

Now sune they reach Newcastle jail,And to the prisoner thus they call:‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o’ the Side,Or art thou weary of thy thrall?’

Jock answers thus, wi’ dolefu’ tone:‘Aft, aft I wake—I seldom sleep:But whae’s this kens my name sae weel,And thus to mese[1190]my waes does seek?’—

Then out and spak the gude Laird’s Jock,‘Now fear ye na, my billie[1191],’ quo’ he;‘For here are the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat,And Hobbie Noble to set thee free.’—

‘Now haud thy tongue, my gude Laird’s Jock,For ever, alas! this canna be;For if a’ Liddesdale were here the night,The morn’s the day that I maun dee.

‘Full fifteen stane o’ Spanish iron,They hae laid a’ right sair on me;Wi’ locks and keys I am fast boundIn this dungeon dark and dreirie.’

‘Fear ye na 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 sworn we’ll set thee free.’

The first strong door that they cam at,They loosèd it without a key;The next chain’d door that they cam at,They garr’d it a’ to flinders flee.

The prisoner now upon his backThe Laird’s Jock has gotten up fu’ hie;And, airns and a’, down the tolbooth[1192]stair,Wi’ nae sma’ speed and joy brings he.

‘Now, Jock, my man,’ quo’ Hobbie Noble,‘Some o’ his weight ye may lay on me.’—‘I wat weel no!’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,‘I count him lighter than a flee.’

Sae out at the gates they a’ are gane,The prisoner’s set on horseback hie;And now wi’ speed they’ve ta’en the gate,While ilk ane jokes fu’ wantonlie:

‘O Jock! sae winsomely ye sit,Wi’ baith your feet upon ae side;Sae weel ye’re harneist, and sae trig,In troth ye sit like ony bride!’

The night, tho’ wat, they did na mind,But hied them on fu’ merrilie,Until they cam to Cholerton brae,Where the water ran like mountains hie.

But when they cam to Cholerton ford,There 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 gude auld man;‘I hae lived here thretty years and three;Nor man nor horse can go ower Tyne,Except it were a horse of tree.’—

Then out and spoke the Laird’s saft Wat,The greatest coward in the companie:‘Now halt, now halt! we need na try’t;The day is come we a’ maun die!’—

‘Puir faint-hearted thief!’ cried the Laird’s ain Jock,‘There’ll nae man die but him that’s fie[1193];I’ll guide ye a’ right safely thro’;Lift ye the pris’ner on ahint me.’

Wi’ that the water they hae ta’en,By ane’s and twa’s they a’ swam thro’;‘Here are we a’ safe,’ quo’ the Laird’s Jock,‘And, puir faint Wat, what think ye now?’

They scarce the other brae had won,When twenty men they saw pursue;Frae Newcastle toun they had been sent,A’ English lads baith stout and true.

But when the Land-sergeant the water saw,‘It winna ride, my lads,’ says he;Then cried aloud—‘The prisoner take,But leave the fetters, I pray, to me!’

‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,‘I’ll keep them, shoon to my mare to be:My gude bay mare—for I am sure,She has bought them a’ right dear frae thee.’—

Sae now they are on to Liddesdale,E’en as fast as they could them hie;The prisoner is brought to his ain fireside,And there o’ his airns they mak him free.

‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo’ a’ the three,‘The day is comed thou was to die;But thou’s as weel at thy ain ingle-side,Now sitting, I think, ’twixt thee and me.’

FOOTNOTES:[1185]corn-caugers = corn hucksters.[1186]branks = wooden halter.[1187]brecham = straw collar.[1188]laigh = low.[1189]pa = paw.[1190]mese = soothe.[1191]billie = comrade.[1192]tolbooth = gaol.[1193]fie = fey, doomed.

[1185]corn-caugers = corn hucksters.

[1186]branks = wooden halter.

[1187]brecham = straw collar.

[1188]laigh = low.

[1189]pa = paw.

[1190]mese = soothe.

[1191]billie = comrade.

[1192]tolbooth = gaol.

[1193]fie = fey, doomed.

IFoul fa’ the breast first treason bred in!That Liddesdale may safely say,For in it there was baith meat and drink,And corn unto our geldings gay.IIWe 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[1194]away.IIINow Hobbie he was an English man,And born into Bewcastle dale,But his misdeeds they were sae great,They banish’d him to Liddesdale.IVAt Kershope-foot the tryst was set,Kershope of the lily lee;And there was traitour Sim o’ the Mains,With him a private companie.VThen Hobbie has graith’d[1195]his body weel,I wat wi’ baith good iron and steel;And he has pull’d out his fringed[1196]grey,And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel.VIThen Hobbie is down the water gane,Even as fast as he may drie;Tho’ they shou’d a’ brusten and broken their hearts,Frae that riding-tryst he would not be.VII‘Weel may ye be, my feiries[1197]five!And aye, what is your wills wi’ me?’Then they cryd a’ wi’ ae consent:‘Thou’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.VIII‘Wilt thou with us into England ride?And thy safe-warrand we will be,If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,Upon his back that thou shalt be.’—IX‘I dare not with you into England ride,The Land-sergeant has me at feid[1198];I know not what evil may betideFor Peter of Whitfield his brother is dead.X‘And Antony Shiel he loves not me,For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,For nae gear frae me he e’er could keep.XI‘But will ye stay till the day gae down,Until the night come owre the grund,And I’ll be a guide worth ony twaThat may in Liddesdale be found.XII‘Tho’ dark the night as pick[1199]and tar,I’ll guide ye owre yon hills sae hie,And bring ye a’ in safety back,If you will be true and follow me.’XIIIHe has guided them owre moss and muir,O’er hill and houp[1200], and mony a down,Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,And there brave Noble he lighted down.XIVThen word is gane to the Land-sergeant,In Askerton where that he lay:‘The deer that ye hae hunted sae langIs seen into the Waste this day.’—XV‘Then Hobbie Noble is that deer;I wat he carries the style fu’ hie!Aft has he beat your slough-hounds[1201]back,And set yourselves at little eie[1202].XVI‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,See they sharp their arrows on the wa’!Warn Willeva and Spear Edom,And see the morn they meet me a’.XVII‘Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh,And see it be by break o’ day;And we will on to Conscouthart Green,For there, I think, we’ll get our prey.’XVIIIThen Hobbie Noble has dreamit a dream,In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;He thought his horse was aneath him shot,And he himself got hard away.XIXThe cocks could craw, and the day could daw’,And I wat sae even down fell the rain;Had Hobbie na waken’d at that time,In the Foulbogshiel he’d been ta’en or slain.XX‘Get up, get up, my feiries five,For I wat here makes a fu’ ill day;And the warst clock[1203]of this companieI hope shall cross the Waste this day.XXINow Hobbie 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.XXII‘Yet follow me, my feiries five,And see of me ye keep good array;And the worst clock of this companieI hope shall cross the Waste this day.’XXIIIThere was heaps of men now Hobbie before,And other heaps was him behin’,That had he been wight as Wallace wasAway brave Noble he could not win.XXIVThen Hobbie he had but a laddie’s sword,But he did more than a laddie’s deed;Till in the midst of Conscouthart Green,He brake it o’er Jers-a-Wigham’s head.XXVNow they have ta’en brave Hobbie Noble,Wi’ his ain bowstring they band him sae;And I wat his heart was neer sae sairAs when his ain five band him on the brae.XXVIThey have ta’en him on for West Carlisle;They ask’d him if he kenn’d the way;Whate’er he thought, yet little he said;He knew that gate as well as they.XXVIIThey hae ta’en him up the Ricker-gate;The wives they cast their windows wide,And ilka wife to anither can say,‘That’s the man loos’d Jock o’ the Side!’—XXVIII‘Fy on ye, women! why ca’ ye me man?For it’s nae man that I’m used like;I’m but like a forfoughen[1204]hound,Has been fighting in a dirty syke[1205].’XXIXThen they hae ta’en him up thro’ Carlisle town,And set him by the chimney-fire;They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,And that was little his desire.XXXThey gave him a wheaten loaf to eatAnd after that a can of beer;Then they cried a’, wi’ ae consent,‘Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!XXXI‘Confess my lord’s horse, Hobbie,’ they say,‘And the morn in Carlisle thou’se no dee.’—‘How shall I confess them?’ Hobbie says,‘For I never saw them with mine e’e.’XXXIIThen Hobbie has sworn a fu’ great aith,By the day that he was gotten or born,He never had onything o’ my lord’sThat either ate him grass or corn.XXXIII‘Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!For I think again I’ll ne’er thee see;I wad betray nae lad alive,For a’ the gowd in Christentie.XXXIV‘And fare thee well now, Liddesdale,Baith the hie land and the law!Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!For gowd and gear he’ll sell ye a’.XXXV‘I’d rather be ca’d Hobbie Noble,In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,Before I were ca’d the traitor Mains,That eats and drinks o’ the meal and maut.’

Foul fa’ the breast first treason bred in!That Liddesdale 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[1194]away.

Now Hobbie he was an English man,And born into Bewcastle dale,But his misdeeds they were sae great,They banish’d him to Liddesdale.

At Kershope-foot the tryst was set,Kershope of the lily lee;And there was traitour Sim o’ the Mains,With him a private companie.

Then Hobbie has graith’d[1195]his body weel,I wat wi’ baith good iron and steel;And he has pull’d out his fringed[1196]grey,And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel.

Then Hobbie is down the water gane,Even as fast as he may drie;Tho’ they shou’d a’ brusten and broken their hearts,Frae that riding-tryst he would not be.

‘Weel may ye be, my feiries[1197]five!And aye, what is your wills wi’ me?’Then they cryd a’ wi’ ae consent:‘Thou’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.

‘Wilt thou with us into England ride?And thy safe-warrand we will be,If 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[1198];I know not what evil may betideFor Peter of Whitfield his brother is dead.

‘And Antony Shiel he loves not me,For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,For nae gear frae me he e’er could keep.

‘But will ye stay till the day gae down,Until the night come owre the grund,And I’ll be a guide worth ony twaThat may in Liddesdale be found.

‘Tho’ dark the night as pick[1199]and tar,I’ll guide ye owre yon hills sae hie,And bring ye a’ in safety back,If you will be true and follow me.’

He has guided them owre moss and muir,O’er hill and houp[1200], and mony a down,Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,And there brave Noble he lighted down.

Then word is gane to the Land-sergeant,In Askerton where that he lay:‘The deer that ye hae hunted sae langIs seen into the Waste this day.’—

‘Then Hobbie Noble is that deer;I wat he carries the style fu’ hie!Aft has he beat your slough-hounds[1201]back,And set yourselves at little eie[1202].

‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,See they sharp their arrows on the wa’!Warn Willeva and Spear Edom,And see the morn they meet me a’.

‘Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh,And see it be by break o’ day;And we will on to Conscouthart Green,For there, I think, we’ll get our prey.’

Then Hobbie Noble has dreamit a dream,In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;He thought his horse was aneath him shot,And he himself got hard away.

The cocks could craw, and the day could daw’,And I wat sae even down fell the rain;Had Hobbie na waken’d at that time,In the Foulbogshiel he’d been ta’en or slain.

‘Get up, get up, my feiries five,For I wat here makes a fu’ ill day;And the warst clock[1203]of this companieI hope shall cross the Waste this day.

Now Hobbie 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,And see of me ye keep good array;And the worst clock of this companieI hope shall cross the Waste this day.’

There was heaps of men now Hobbie before,And other heaps was him behin’,That had he been wight as Wallace wasAway brave Noble he could not win.

Then Hobbie he had but a laddie’s sword,But he did more than a laddie’s deed;Till in the midst of Conscouthart Green,He brake it o’er Jers-a-Wigham’s head.

Now they have ta’en brave Hobbie Noble,Wi’ his ain bowstring they band him sae;And I wat his heart was neer sae sairAs when his ain five band him on the brae.

They have ta’en him on for West Carlisle;They ask’d him if he kenn’d the way;Whate’er he thought, yet little he said;He knew that gate as well as they.

They hae ta’en him up the Ricker-gate;The 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;I’m but like a forfoughen[1204]hound,Has been fighting in a dirty syke[1205].’

Then they hae ta’en him up thro’ Carlisle town,And set him by the chimney-fire;They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,And that was little his desire.

They gave him a wheaten loaf to eatAnd after that a can of beer;Then they cried a’, wi’ ae consent,‘Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!

‘Confess my lord’s horse, Hobbie,’ they say,‘And the morn in Carlisle thou’se no dee.’—‘How shall I confess them?’ Hobbie says,‘For I never saw them with mine e’e.’

Then Hobbie has sworn a fu’ great aith,By the day that he was gotten or born,He never had onything o’ my lord’sThat either ate him grass or corn.

‘Now fare thee weel, sweet Mangerton!For I think again I’ll ne’er thee see;I wad betray nae lad alive,For a’ the gowd in Christentie.

‘And fare thee well now, Liddesdale,Baith the hie land and the law!Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!For gowd and gear he’ll sell ye a’.

‘I’d rather be ca’d Hobbie Noble,In Carlisle, where he suffers for his faut,Before I were ca’d the traitor Mains,That eats and drinks o’ the meal and maut.’

FOOTNOTES:[1194]seld = sold.[1195]graith’d = clad in armour.[1196]fringed = long-haired at fetlocks.[1197]feiries = feres, comrades.[1198]feid = feud.[1199]pick = pitch.[1200]houp = ‘hope,’ a hollow between two hills.[1201]slough-hounds = sleuth-hounds.[1202]eie = awe.[1203]clock = lame one, hobbler.[1204]forfoughen = out-wearied.[1205]syke = ditch.

[1194]seld = sold.

[1195]graith’d = clad in armour.

[1196]fringed = long-haired at fetlocks.

[1197]feiries = feres, comrades.

[1198]feid = feud.

[1199]pick = pitch.

[1200]houp = ‘hope,’ a hollow between two hills.

[1201]slough-hounds = sleuth-hounds.

[1202]eie = awe.

[1203]clock = lame one, hobbler.

[1204]forfoughen = out-wearied.

[1205]syke = ditch.

IAs 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 what they did say.IIThe youngest to the eldest said:‘Blythe and merrie how can we be?There were three brithren of us born,And ane of us is condemn’d to die.’—III‘An ye wad be merrie, an ye wad be sad,What the better wad billy[1206]Archie be?Unless I had thirty men to mysell,And a’ to ride in my companie.IV‘Ten to hald the horses’ heads,And other ten the watch to be,And ten to break up the strong prisonWhere billy Archie he does lie.V‘Had I but thirty well-wight[1207]men,Thirty o’ the best in Christiantie,I wad go on to fair Dumfries,I wad loose my brother and set him free.’VIThen up and spak him mettled John Ha’(For leugh o’ Liddesdale[1208]crackit he):‘An I had eleven men to mysell,It’s aye the twalt man I wad be.’—VIIThen 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.’VIIIThere was horsing, horsing in haste,And cracking of whips out owre the lee;Until they cam to the Murraywhat,And they lighted there right speedilie.IX‘A smith! a smith!’ Dickie he cries,‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie,To turn back the caukers[1209]of our horses’ shoon!For it’s unkensome[1210]we wad be.X‘There lives a smith on the water-side,Will shoe my little black mare for me;And I’ve a crown in my pockét,And every groat of it I wad gie.’—XI‘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.’—XII‘Shame fa’ you and your trade baith,Canna beet[1211]a good fellow by your mystery[1212];But leeze me on[1213]thee, my little black mare,Thou’s worth thy weight in gold to me.’XIIIThere was horsing, horsing in haste,And cracking of whips out owre the lee,Until they came to the Bonshaw wood,Where they held their council privately.XIVSome says, ‘We’ll gang the Annan road;It is the better road,’ said they;But up bespake then Dicky Ha’,The wisest of that company:XVSays, ‘Annan road’s a public road,It’s no the road that makes for me;But we will through at the Hoddam ford,It is the better road,’ quo’ he.XVIThere was horsing, horsing in haste,And crackin’ of whips out owre the lee;Until they cam to Dumfries port[1214],And they lighted there right speedilie.XVII‘There’s five of us will hold the horse,And other five will watchmen be:But wha’s the man among ye a’,Will gae to the tolbooth[1215]door wi’ me?’—XVIIIO up then spak him mettled John Ha’,(For leugh o’ Liddesdale crackit he):‘If it should cost my life this very night,I’ll gae to the tolbooth door wi’ thee.’—XIX‘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!’XXO Jockie Ha’ stepp’d to the door,And he bended low back on his knee,And he made the bolts that the door hang on,Loup frae the wa’ right wantonlie.XXIHe took the prisoner on his back,And down the tolbooth stair cam he;The black mare stood ready at the door,I wot a foot ne’er stirrèd she.XXIIThey laid the links out owre her neck,And that was her gold twist to be;And they cam doun thro’ Dumfries toun,And wow but they cam speedilie.XXIIIThe live-lang night these twelve men rade,And aye till they were right wearie,Until they cam to the Murraywhat,And they lighted there right speedilie.XXIV‘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.’—XXVThey hadna filed a shackle of iron,A shackle of iron but barely three,When out and spak young Simon brave:‘O dinna you see what I do see?XXVI‘Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon,Wi’ a hundred men in his companie;This night will be our lyke-wake night,The morn the day we a’ maun die.’—XXVIIO there was mounting, mounting in haste,And cracking of whips out owre the lee;Until they cam to Annan water,And it was flowing like the sea.XXVIII‘My mare is young and very skeigh[1216],And in o’ the weil[1217]she will drown me!’—‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine,And sune through the water we sall be.’XXIXThen 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[1218];We’ll lose the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’—XXX‘Shame fa’ you and your lands baith!Wad ye e’en[1219]your lands to your born billy?But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare,And yet thro’ the water we sall be.’—XXXINow they did swim that wan water,And wow but they swam bonnilie!Until they cam to the other side,And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily.XXXII‘Come thro’, come thro’, Lieutenant Gordon!Come thro’ and drink some wine wi’ me!For there is an ale-house here hard by,And it shall not cost thee ae penny.’—XXXIII‘Throw me my irons,’ quo’ Lieutenant Gordon;‘I wot they cost me dear eneugh.’—‘The shame a ma[1220],’ quo’ mettled John Ha’,‘They’ll be gude shackles to my pleugh.’—XXXIV‘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.’

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 what they did say.

The youngest to the eldest said:‘Blythe and merrie how can we be?There were three brithren of us born,And ane of us is condemn’d to die.’—

‘An ye wad be merrie, an ye wad be sad,What the better wad billy[1206]Archie be?Unless I had thirty men to mysell,And a’ to ride in my companie.

‘Ten to hald the horses’ heads,And other ten the watch to be,And ten to break up the strong prisonWhere billy Archie he does lie.

‘Had I but thirty well-wight[1207]men,Thirty o’ the best in Christiantie,I wad go on to fair Dumfries,I wad loose my brother and set him free.’

Then up and spak him mettled John Ha’(For leugh o’ Liddesdale[1208]crackit he):‘An I had eleven men to mysell,It’s aye the twalt man I wad be.’—

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,And cracking of whips out owre the lee;Until they cam to the Murraywhat,And they lighted there right speedilie.

‘A smith! a smith!’ Dickie he cries,‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie,To turn back the caukers[1209]of our horses’ shoon!For it’s unkensome[1210]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 pockét,And 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.’—

‘Shame fa’ you and your trade baith,Canna beet[1211]a good fellow by your mystery[1212];But leeze me on[1213]thee, my little black mare,Thou’s worth thy weight in gold to me.’

There was horsing, horsing in haste,And cracking of whips out owre the lee,Until they came to the Bonshaw wood,Where they held their council privately.

Some says, ‘We’ll gang the Annan road;It is the better road,’ said they;But up bespake then Dicky Ha’,The wisest of that company:

Says, ‘Annan road’s a public road,It’s no the road that makes for me;But we will through at the Hoddam ford,It is the better road,’ quo’ he.

There was horsing, horsing in haste,And crackin’ of whips out owre the lee;Until they cam to Dumfries port[1214],And they lighted there right speedilie.

‘There’s five of us will hold the horse,And other five will watchmen be:But wha’s the man among ye a’,Will gae to the tolbooth[1215]door wi’ me?’—

O up then spak him mettled John Ha’,(For leugh o’ Liddesdale crackit he):‘If it should cost my life this very night,I’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 Ha’ stepp’d to the door,And he bended low back on his knee,And he made the bolts that the door hang on,Loup frae the wa’ right wantonlie.

He took the prisoner on his back,And down the tolbooth stair cam he;The black mare stood ready at the door,I wot a foot ne’er stirrèd she.

They laid the links out owre her neck,And that was her gold twist to be;And 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 Murraywhat,And 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.’—

They hadna filed a shackle of iron,A shackle of iron but barely three,When out and spak young Simon brave:‘O dinna you see what I do see?

‘Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon,Wi’ 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 cracking of whips out owre the lee;Until they cam to Annan water,And it was flowing like the sea.

‘My mare is young and very skeigh[1216],And in o’ the weil[1217]she will drown me!’—‘But ye’ll take mine, and I’ll take thine,And 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[1218];We’ll lose the prisoner, we’ll gae free.’—

‘Shame fa’ you and your lands baith!Wad ye e’en[1219]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,And 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!For 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[1220],’ quo’ mettled John Ha’,‘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.’

Back to Index Next