He looked over his left shoulder 'O haud your tongue, my father dear, But they canna banish me fro' Heaven hie. And ye may gie my brither John My sword that's bent in the middle clear, And let him come at twelve o'clock, And see me pay the Bishop's mare. And ye may gie my brither James My sword that's bent in the middle brown, And bid him come at four o'clock, And see his brither Hugh cut down. And ye may tell my kith and kin I never did disgrace their blood; XXIX KINMONT WILLIE THE CAPTURE O HAVE ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde? O have ye na heard o' the keen Lord Scroope? How they hae ta'en bold Kinmont Willie, On Haribee to hang him up? Had Willie had but twenty men, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en, They band his legs beneath the steed, They led him thro' the Liddel-rack, And also thro' the Carlisle sands; 'My hands are tied, but my tongue is free, Or answer by the Border law? Or answer to the bold Buccleuch? ' 'Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! There's never a Scot shall set thee free: Before ye cross my castle yett, I trow ye shall take farewell o' me.' 'Fear na ye that, my lord,' quo' Willie: 'By the faith o' my body, Lord Scroope,' he said, 'I never yet lodged in a hostelrie But I paid my lawing before I gaed.' THE KEEPER'S WRATH Now word is gane to the bold Keeper, That Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willie, He has ta'en the table wi' his hand, Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree? That an English lord should lightly me! And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, And forgotten that the bold Buccleuch O were there war between the lands, I would set that castle in a lowe, But since nae war's between the lands, I'll neither harm English lad or lass, And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!' THE MARCH He has called him forty Marchmen bold, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, called The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same. He has called him forty Marchmen bold, Were kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch; With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, And gluves of green, and feathers blue. There were five and five before them a', And five and five like a mason gang And so they reached the Woodhouselee. And as we crossed the 'Bateable Land, The first o' men that we met wi', Whae suld it be but fause Sakelde? 'Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?' Quo' fause Sakelde; 'come tell to me!' 'We go to hunt an English stag Has trespassed on the Scots countrie.' 'Where be ye gaun, ye marshal men?' Has broken faith wi' the bold Buccleuch.' 'Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads, Wi' a' your ladders lang and hie?' 'We gang to herry a corbie's nest That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.' 'Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?' Quo' fause Sakelde; 'come tell to me!' Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band, And the never a word of lear had he. 'Why trespass ye on the English side? Row-footed outlaws, stand!' quo' he; The never a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie. Then on we held for Carlisle toun, And at Staneshaw-Bank the Eden we crossed; The water was great and meikle of spait, And when we reached the Staneshaw-Bank, And there the Laird garred leave our steeds, And when we left the Staneshaw-Bank, |