Rhymer's Tower: Ballads of the Anglo​-​Scottish Border

by Andrew Calhoun

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released February 23, 2017


tags: folk Chicago


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Andrew Calhoun Chicago, Illinois

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Track Name: The Two Ravens
As I walked by yon old house end,
I saw two ravens sittin thereon;
The one unto the other did say
“O where shall we go and dine today?”

“O where but by yon new fallen birch,
There, there lies a new slain knight,
No mortal kens that he lies there,
But his hawks and hounds and his lady fair.

“We’ll sit upon his bonny breastbone,
And we’ll pick out his bonny grey eyes,
We'll set our claws into his yellow hair,
And build our bower - it's all blown bare.

“My mother hatched me out of an egg
And brought me up in the feathers grey.
And bade me fly wherever I would
For winter would be my dying day.

“Now winter it is come and past
And all the birds are buildin' their nests,
But I'll fly high above them all,
And sing a song for summer's sake.”
Track Name: Thomas the Rhymer
As Thomas lay by Huntlie Bank,
He heard the thrush and the woodlark sing;
He heard the jay and the thistleccok,
Till all the wood about did ring.

Twas in a merry morn in may,
As in a pasture alone lay he;
He was aware of a lady bright,
Come riding down by the eildon tree.

Her shirt was of the grass-green silk,
Her mantle of the velvet fine;
At every lock of her horse’s mane,
Hung fifty silver bells and nine.

Thomas rose and doffed his hat,
And bowed him low down to his knee:
“All hail, thou mighty Queen of Heaven!
For your peer on earth ne’er did see.”

“Leave off such words, Thomas” she says,
“That name does not belong to me,
I’m but the queen of a strange land,
Come out a-hunting, as you can see.

“O harp and carp, Thomas,” she says,
“O harp and carp, and go with me;
It’ll be seven years, Thomas, and a day,
Till you see man or a woman in your own country.

“O harp and carp, Thomas,” she says,
“O harp and carp along with me,
And if ye dare to kiss my lips,
Sure of your body I will be.”

“Betide me weal, betide me woe,
That fable shall not frighten me;”
And he has kissed her rosy lips,
All underneath the Eildon Tree.

“Since ye have kissed my lips,” she says,
“Now Thomas you must go with me
And follow me for seven years,
Through weal or woe, as chance may be”

O she rode on, and Thomas ran,
Until they came to yon clear stream;
He’s casted off his cobbled shoes,
And waded the water up to the knee.

O she rode on, and Thomas ran,
Until they came to a garden green;
He put his hand up to pull the fruit,
For hunger he was like to swoon.

“Hold back your hand, Thomas,” she says,
“Hold back your hand, that must not be;
It was all that cursed fruit of thine,
Beggared man and woman in your country.

“But I have a loaf and a draught of wine,
And ye shall sit and dine with me;
And lay your head down in my lap,
And I will show thee wonders three.

“O see you not that narrow road,
So thick beset with thorns and briars?
That is the path of righteousness,
Though after it but few enquires.

“And see you not yon broad broad road,
Which lies across that lily leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Though some call it the road to heaven.

“And see ye not yon bonny road,
Which winds about the ferny brow?
That is the road to Elflyn Land,
Where you and I this night must go.

‘But Thomas, you must hold your tongue,
Whatever you may hear or see,
If you speak to any in Elflyn land,
You’ll never get back to your own country.”

She’s mounted on her milk white steed,
And she drew Thomas up behind
And every time that his bridle rang,
Her steed flew swifter than the wind.

O they rode on, and farther on,
And waded through rivers above the knee,
And they saw neither sun nor moon,
But they heard the sighing of the sea.

Then they came on to a castle hall,
Where all was feasting and minstrelsy
And many there spoke unto Thomas,
But not one word to any spoke he.

O they rode on and farther on,
The steed went swifter than the wind,
Until they came to a desert wide,
And living land was left behind.

In dark, dark night with no starlight,
They waded through red blood to the knee;
For all the blood that’s shed on earth
Runs through the springs of that country.

O they rode on and farther on,
And they heard the soughing of the flood,
At last he said, “Full woe is me,
Almost I die for want of food.”

“Far out in yonder mountain grey,
Thomas, my falcon bulids a nest,
A falcon is an eagle’s prey,
Henceforth in no place may he rest.”

At last they came to a garden green,
And she pulled an apple from a tree:
Says “Take this for thy wages, Thomas,
It will give the tongue that cannot lie.

“Farewell True Thomas, I wend my way, I may no longer stand with thee
But even unto the world’s end, ye’ll never be betrayed by me.”

She left him by the Eildon tree,
Underneath that greenwood spray,
On Huntly bank, so merry to be,
Where birds do sing both night and day.
Track Name: The Battle of Otterburn
IThe Battle of Otterburn
(Child#161, tune from C.K. Sharpe manuscript)

“I have never heard the old song of Percy and Douglas but I found not my heart more moved than with a trumpet.” -Sir Philip Sydney 32 miles NW of Newcastle

It fell about first harvest time,
When husbandmen bring in their hay,
Earl Douglas rode to the English woods,
in vengeance bound to fetch a prey.

He has chosen the Earl of March,
With the gallant Murrays for the fray,
The loyal Dunbars and the Earl of Fife,
And Sir Hugh Montgomery upon a grey.

Over Hoppertop Hill they rode,
And followed on by Rodcliff crag,
Upon Green Lynton they lighted down,
And put to flight there many a stag.

They have harried Northumberland,
And so have they the Bambrough shire,
And the Otter Dale, they have burnt it hale,
And set the fields all into fire.

They lighted high on Otterburn, (burn - stream)
Upon the grassy slope so brown;
They sent their horses out to graze,
And put their tents up and pallets down.

At night there came a bonny boy,
That served one of Earl Douglas’ kin;
“Methinks I see an English force,
A-coming on to hem us in.”

“Was I not yesterday at the New Castell,
That stands so fair upon theTyne?
For all the men that Percy had,
He’s only one to ten of mine.”

Earl Douglas belted on his good broad sword,
And called his captains to the fray,
The English host came marching forth,
With seven standards in array.

By the light of the harvest moon,
With trumpet blasts and groans of pain,
The men of arms began to join,
And many a gallant man was slain.

When Douglas with Sir Percy met,
They swacked their swords of fine collaine,
They traded blows with might and main,
Till sweat and blood ran like the rain.

“Yield ye to me,” bold Douglas said,
“For I see thou art some gentle knight,
“I’ll never yield,” the noble Percy said,
“Not while I yet may stand and fight.”

Then Percy drove with all his strength,
And so he gave a grievous wound;
He smote Earl Douglas at the sword’s length
Till he lay gasping on the ground.

Earl Douglas called on his little foot-page,
And bid him, “Run speedily,
And fetch my own dear sister’s son,
I mean Sir Hugh Montgomery.”

Earl Douglas to Montgomery said,
“Take thou the vanguard now for me,
And lay me under yon bracken-bush,
That neither friend nor foe may see.

“For I dreamed a dead man shall win the field,
I hope in God it shall be I!
Up with my banner, Cry ‘Douglas!’ then,
Avenge me now, and win the day.”

There was no man on either side
But held his ground while he could stand,
Each one hewing on foes while he might,
A baleful blade at every hand

Then Percy and Montgomery met,
And swapped their swords so long and sharp,
Fast on his head Montgomery beat,
Till Percy’s helmet came apart

“Yield, now,” Montgomery cried,
“Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low.”
“Whom to shall I yield,” the noble Percy said,
“Now that I see it must be so?”

“O yield thee to yon bracken-bush,
That grows upon yon lily lea;
For there lies beneath yon bracken-bush,
What oft has conquered more than thee.”

The battle won at Otterburn,
Between the night’s end and the day,
They bore Douglas’ corpse from the bracken bush,
And Percy captive was led away.
Track Name: Flodden Field
Scotland’s king hath made a vow,
Keep it well if he may;
That he will conquer England
Upon Saint James, his day.

“Upon Saint James’ day at noon,
At fair London will I be,
And all the lords of Scotland,
Shall dine there with me.”

Then up spoke good Queen Margaret,
The tears fell from her eye:
“Leave off these wars, most noble king,
Keep your fidelity.

“The water runs swift and wondrous deep,
From the bottom to the brim;
My brother Henry hath men good enough;
England is hard to win.”

At Flodden Field the Scots came in,
And stood in wind and rain.
At Brankston Green, this battle was seen,
And there King James was slain.

The Scots then fled in disarray,
The English beat them blind;
Their cannons were all won away,
Their ensigns left behind.

Twelve thousand were slain on Flodden Field
That to the fight did stand,
And many earls and lords were taken,
The best in all Scotland.

That day made many a fatherless child,
And many a widow poor,
And many a noble lady
Sat weeping in her bower.
Track Name: The Flower of Northumberland
Northumberland’s daughter went walking alone,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
When she heard a poor prisoner making his moan,
& she was the fair flower of Northumberland.

‘Fair maid, will you pity me?”
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
”If you’ll steal the keys, and let me go free:
I’ll make you my lady in fair Scotland.”

”I’m sure you have no need of me,”
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
”If you have a wife and child or three,
That live at home in fair Scotland.”

He swore by him that was crowned with thorn,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
That he never had a wife since the day he was born,
But lived a free lord in fair Scotland.

She went unto her father’s bed-stock,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
She’s stolen the keys to the dungeon lock,
And she’s let him out of the prison strong.

Now she’s gone to her father’s coffer,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
And she took out his gold like a common robber,
Though she was the heir of Northumberland

And then she went in to her father’s stable,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
She’s stolen a steed both sturdy and able,
To carry them both to fair Scotland.

O when they came to the Scottish cross,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
He bade her light off of her father’s best horse,
And turn back again to Northumberland.

”O pity on me, O pity,” said she,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
”Have pity on me as I had upon thee,
When I let you out of the prison strong.”

”O how can I have pity on thee?”
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
”When I have a wife and children three,
That live in my castle in fair Scotland.”

”A cook in your kitchen I’m willing to be,”
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
”And I’ll serve your lady most reverently,
For I dare not go back to Northumberland.”

“A cook in my kitchen, ye shall not be,”
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
“For I may not have such a servant as thee,
So get ye back home to Northumberland.”

“Or take me by the middle so small,”
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won
“And throw me over your castle wall,
For I dare not go home to Northumberland.”

So loath was he further this lassie to pain,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
That he hired a horse and paid an old man,
To carry her back to Northumberland.

When she went through her father’s hall,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won
She bowed her low amongst them all,
Even the flower o Northumberland.

Out spoke her stepmother, and she spoke so bold,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
”A thief and a whore at just fifteen years old,
Ye shall not be heir of Northumberland.”

Out spoke her father, and he spoke so mild,
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won
”She is not the first maid a false Scot has beguiled,
But she’s still the Flower of Northumberland.

‘She shall not want houses, she shall not want land,”
Maids’ love sometimes is easily won,
She shall not want gold to gain her a husband,
For she is the heir of Northumberland.”
Track Name: Johnny O Cockley's Well
Johnie rose on a may morning,
Sought water to wash his hands,
And he’s called for his hunting hounds
That were bound in iron bands, bands
That were bound in iron bands.

Johnie has readied his good bent bow,
Likewise his arrows keen,
He stripped himself o the scarlet red
Put on the Lincoln green.

Johnie’s mother got word o that
And a woeful woman was she;
“My son, go not to yon greenwood
I pray be ruled by me.

“It’s we have plenty of good brown bread
And plenty of good blood red wine;
Johnie go not to yon greenwood
For to hunt your venison.

“There are seven o the King’s foresters
At Pickeram Side do dwell,
And for a drop of thy heart’s blood
They would ride the fords of hell.”

But Johnie has made a solemn vow
Between the sun and the moon,
And he’s away to the good greenwood
To hunt the dun deer down.

He look to the east & he looked to the west
And in below the sun,
And there he spied the king’s dun deer
Was cropping a bush o broom.

Johnie shot, the dun deer leapt
And she leapt wondrous wide,
Until they came to the wan water
Where his hounds they stemmed her pride.

Johnie’s handled the deer so well,
That he’s had out the liver and lungs,
With these he feasted his good blood hounds
As if they’d been earl’s sons.

They ate so much o the venison,
And drank so much o the blood,
That Johnie and his good blood-hounds
Fell asleep by yon green wood

Then by there came a grey-headed man
And a silly old man was he;
And he’s away to Pickeram Side
For to tell what he did see.

“As I came in by Brady’s Lee
Among the brambly scrogs,
The fairest youth I e’er did see
Lay sleeping between his dogs.

“The shirt that he wore on his back
Was of the holland fine
The doublet he wore over that
Was of the Lincoln twine.

“The buttons he wore on his sleeve
Were of the gold so good
The hunting hounds he lay between
Their mouths were dyed with blood.”

Out then spoke one, out then spoke two
Out then spoke two or three:
“If this be Johnny o Cockley’s Well,
This youth we’ll go and see.”

They rode out to Brady’s Lee,
And in among the scrogs,
They spied Johnie o Cockley’s Well
A-sleepin between his dogs.

The first arrows that they fired at him
They wounded him on the thigh;
The second arrows they fired at him
Heart’s blood did blind his eye.

When Johnie rose out from his sleep
An angry man was he;
Says “Ye might have asked if I’d be taken
Before that ye fired on me.”

“The wildest wolf in all the wood
Would have sprinkled wan water over me.
If I would not have waked for that.
She’d have gone and let me be”

He planted his back against an oak
His foot against a stone,
And he’s fired at the king’s foresters
And killed them all but one.

Then he broke three ribs o that man’s side
Likewise his collar bone,
And he cast him sideways over a steed
To carry the tidings home.

“Is there not a bird in yon green wood
Can sing as I can say?
Could fly in to my mother’s bower,
Bid her kiss me and fetch me away.”
Track Name: Johnie Armstrong
Some speaks of lords, some speaks of lairds,
And such like men of high degree
Of a gentleman I sing a song,
John Armstrong, Laird of Gilnockie.

The king wrote Johnie a friendly letter,
With a promise of grace for his men and he,
And bid him come to Carlenrig,
To meet with him most speedily.

The Eliots and Armstrongs did convene,
They were a gallant company;
“We’ll ride and meet our lawful king,
And bring him safe to Gilnockie.

“Make rabbit and capon ready then,
And venison in all plenty;
We’ll welcome home our royal king,
I hope he’ll dine at Gilnockie.”

John wore a girdle about his middle,
Embroidered with the burning gold,
Nine costly jewels hung from his hat,
Most beautiful was he to behold.

John rode unarmed to Carlenrig,
With forty brave and loyal men.
The ladies looked from their loft-windows,
“God bring our men well back again!”

When Johnie came before the young king,
With all his men so brave to see;
The king he moved his bonnet to him,
He thought he were a king as well as he.

“May I find grace, my sovereign liege,
A grace for my loyal men and me?
For my name it is Johnie Armstrong,
I’m subject of yours, my liege,” said he.

“Where got this Johnie those costly jewels,
That blink so bonny above the brow?
What wants yon knave that a king should have,
But the sword of honour and the crown!

“I’ll hang thee for a traitor thief,
With all thy loyal company,
I granted never a traitor’s life,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.”

“Grant me my life, my liege, my king,
And a bonny gift I will give to thee;
Full four-and-twenty milk-white steeds
Were all foaled in a year to me.

“I’ll give thee all these milk-white steeds,
That prance and nicker on command
And as much of good English gold
As four of their broad backs can stand.”

“Away, away, thou traitor strong! Out of my sight thou soon shall be!
I granted never a traitor’s life, And now I’ll not begin with thee.”

“Grant me my life, my liege, my king, And a great gift I’ll give to thee;
Good four-and-twenty working mills, That go through all the year for me.

“These four-and-twenty mills complete
Shall go for thee through all the year,
And as much of good red wheat
As all their hoppers are able to bear.”

“Away, away, thou traitor thief!
Out of my sight thou soon shall be!
I granted never a traitor’s life,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.”

“Grant me my life, my liege, my king,
And a brave gift I’ll give to thee;
Bold four-and-twenty sister’s sons,
Shall for the fight, though all should flee.

“These four and twenty sisters sons,
That ride all o’er the border country
And all between here and Newcastle town,
Shall pay their yearly rent to thee.”

“Away, away, thou traitor thief!
Out of my sight thou soon shall be!
I granted never a traitor’s life,
And now I’ll not begin with thee.”

“Ye lied, ye lied, now, king,” says Johnie,
“Although a king and prince ye be,
For I loved nothing in all my life,
I dare well say it, but honesty;

“But a fat horse, and a fair woman,
Two bonny dogs to kill a deer:
But England provided my meal and malt,
If I had lived a hundred year!

“She should have found me meal and malt,
And beef and mutton in all plenty;
But never a Scots wife could have said
That ever I harmed her one poor flea.

“To seek hot water beneath cold ice
Surely it is a great folly
I have asked grace at a graceless face,
But there is none for my men and me.

“Knew England’s king that I were taken
O what a blithe man would he be!
For he would down weigh my best horse with gold,
To see me here condemned by thee.

“Had I my horse, and my harness good,
And riding as I’m wont to be,
It should have been told this hundred year
The meeting of my king and me.

“God be with thee, Thomas, my brother,
Long live thou Laird of Mangerton!
Long mayst thou live on the border-side
Ere thou see thy brother ride up and down.

“And God be with thee, Kirsty, my son,
Where thou sits on thy nurses knee!
But if thou live this hundred year
Thy father’s better thou’lt never be.

“Farewell, my bonny Gilnock hall,
Where on Esk-side thou standest stout
If I had lived but seven years more,
I would have gilded thee round about.”

Johnie was hanged at Carlinrigg,
With all his gallant company.
But Scotland’s heart was never so sad,
To see so many brave men die

Because they saved their country dear
From Englishmen; none were so bold;
While Johnie lived on the border-side,
None of them dared come near his hold.
Track Name: Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead
It fell about the Martinmas,
When steeds were fed with corn and hay,
The Captain of Bewcastle said to his lads,
“We'll into Tiviotdale and seek a prey.”

The first guide that they met with
Was high up in Hardhaugh swire,
The second guide that they met with
Was low down in Borthick water.

“What tidings, what tidings, my bonny guide?” “No tidings no tidings I have for thee;
But if ye'll go to the Fair Dodhead Many a cow’s calf I’ll let you see.”

When they came to the Fair Dodhead,
Right hastily they climbed the wall,
They ransacked the house right well.
And loosed the cows out, one and all.

Now Jamie Telfer’s heart was sore,
The tear a-rolling in his eye;
He pled with the captain to leave his cows,
Or else revenged on him he’d be.

But the Captain turned himself about,
Said, “Man, there's nothing in your house
But an old sword without a scabbard,
That scarcely now would fell a mouse.”

The moon was up and the sun was down,
In a dusting of new-fallen snow;
Jamie Telfer ran eight miles barefoot
Between Dodhead and Branxholm Hall.

And when he came to Branxholm Hall
He shouted loud and cried well he,
Up spoke the warden, Walter Scott,
“Who's this that brings the fray to me?”

“It’s I, Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I trust I be;
There's nothing left in the Fair Dodhead
But only wife and children three.”

“Go seek your succour from Martin Elliot,
For succour ye will get none from me;
Go seek your succour where ye paid black-mail,
For, man, ye never paid money to me.”

Jamie turned him round about,
And oh the tear blinded his eye:
“I’ll never pay meal to Scott again,
Though the Fair Dodhead I never see.”

Now Jamie is up the water road,
Even as fast as he can flee,
Till he came to the Coultart Cleugh,
And there he shouted and cried well he.

“Who's that, who's that?” said old Jock Grieve,
“Who's this that brings the fray to me?”
“It's I, Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I trust I be.

“There's nothing left in the Fair Dodhead,
But only wife and children three,
And six poor calves stand in the stall,
Wondering where their mothers be.”

“Ever alack!” said old Jock Grieve,
“My heart is sore for all thy care!
I never came by the Fair Dodhead
That ever I found thy basket bare.”

Then he took out a bonny black,
It was well fed with corn and hay,
And set Jamie Telfer on his back
To the Braidley Hall to take the fray.

When he came to the Braidley Hall,
He shouted loud and cried well he,
Up then spoke old Martin Elliot,
“Who's this that brings the fray to me?”

“It's I, Jamie Telfer in the Fair Dodhead,
And a harried man I trust I be;
There's nothing left in the Fair Dodhead
But only wife and children three.”

“Ever alack!” old Martin did say,
“And man my heart is sore for thee!
But fly, go call on Simmy my son,
And see that he come hastily.

“Fie, go warn the water-side,
Go warn it soon and hastily
Them that won’t ride for Telfer's cows,
Let them never look in the face of me.

“Go warn the water, broad and wide
And warn the Currers in the grove
When ye come in at the Hermitage slack
Warn stout Willie o Gorrenberry.”

The cows were driven up the Frostily,
And from the stream into the plain;
When Simmy looked before him,
He saw the cows right fast driving.

“Who drives the cows,” then Simmy did say,
“To make a laughing stock of me?”
“It's I, the Captain o Bewcastle, Simmy,
I won’t hide my name from thee.”

“O will ye let the cows go back?
Or will ye do any thing for me?'
Or by my sooth,” then Simmy did say,
“I’ll ply my mother’s whip on thee.”

“I won’t let the cows go back
Nor nothing, Simmy, I’ll do for thee.
But I'll drive Jamie Telfer's cows
In spite o Jamie Telfer's teeth and thee.”

“Fie, fall on them!” Then Simmy did cry,
Fie lads, fall on them cruelly
For ere they get to the Ritter Ford,
Empty saddles there shall be.”

But Simmy was stricken o’er the head,
Through the steel cap the sword is gone,
And Moscrop made a doleful rage
When Simmy on the ground lay slain.

“FIe! Lay on them!” old Martin did cry,
“Fie lads, lay on them cruelly!
For ere they get to the Kershope ford
Empty saddles there shall be.”

John o Biggam he was slain,
And John o Barlow, as I heard say,
And fifteen o the Captain's men
Lay bleeding on the ground that day.

The Captain was shot through the head,
And also through the left ball-stone;
Though he had lived this hundred years,
He 'd never make love to a woman again.

There was a man in our company
Called Willie o the Woodspurs,
Says “I know his house in the Stanegarside
If any man will ride with us.”

When they came to the captain’s house,
They banged with trees and broke the door,
They loosed the cows out one and all,
And set them forth our lads before.

Now on they came to the Fair Dodhead,
They were a welcome sight to see,
Instead of his own ten milk cows,
Jamie Telfer’s gotten thirty and three.
Track Name: Jock o the Side
JOCK O THE SIDE Child#187 & 188

Liddisdale has ridden a raid
But they’d have better stayed at home,
For Peter o Whitfield he is slain,
And Jock o the Side is in prison bound.
Wi my fa ding diddle, lal low dow diddle

Sybil is down the water gone,
With all of her skirts up in her arms
She never gave over swift running
Until she came to Mangerton.

“What news what news, my sister dear?”
Said the laird was just to meat set down;
“Peter o Whitfield he is dead
And my son Jock is in prison bound.”

“Never fear sister Sybil” says he,
“For I’ve yokes of oxen eighty and three,
I’ve droves of cattle and troops of sheep,
I’d give them all for to save your Johnie”

Up then spoke out Hobie Noble,
An English outlaw tried and true
Says, “Give me five good riding men
And I’ll fetch Jock o the Side to you.

“We’ll stuff up all our bags with straw,
And our horses they must go unshod.
We will not ride like men o war,
But go like pedlars on the road.”

Hobbie has mounted his good grey mare,
With Willie on his bay behind,
With the Laird’s Wat and the Laird’s Jock,
And Michael and Mudge for the water oTyne.

But when they came to Cullerton ford,
The water was up, they could not go;
And then they spied a good old man,
His boy and he were at the plough.

“O I have dwelt here three score year,
The Tyne it runs here like the sea;
I never saw man nor horse go o’er,
Except it were a horse o tree.”

Says Mudge the Miller “We’d best turn back.”
But Hobbie says “Mudge, now that won’t do!”
And on they rode till they found a ford
They might ride over two by two.

Then they came into Swinburne wood,
And there then they felled a tree,
With twenty snags cut on each side
The length was thirty foot and three.

The six of them took up the plank,
As light as it had been a flea,
And carried it to New Castle jail,
And climbed the wall up by the tree.

The Laird's Wat he broke a door,
And the Laird’s Jock he broke three
Until they came up to the room,
Where Jock was praying so mournfully.

“God bless thee, Sybil o the Side!
My own mother so dear,” said he;
“If ye knew this night that I was here,
A woeful woman you would be.

“And fare thee well, Laird Mangerton!
And ever I say God be with thee!
For if ye knew that I was here,
Ye’d sell your land for to borrow me.”

“‘But who is this, at stroke o twelve,
That knows and calls my name to me?”
“I am a bastard-brother of thine;
This night we’ve come for to set you free.”

But Jock o the Side says “Go away brothers,
Or ye’ll be taken as well as me
There’s fifteen stone of Spanish iron
Laid on me fast with lock and key."

"Never fear!” said the Laird’s Jock,
“We'll work without, ye'll work within,”
And six of them tried the iron door,
But there’s none alive could break it in.

“It fears me sore,” said Mudge the Miller,
“The time is past for us to flee;”
“Fie on thee, Mudge!” then said Hobie,
“For I fear a man ye never shall be.”

Hobie had Flanders files three,
And he filed the lock of that iron door,
Took Jock in chains upon his back,
Says “See that you never come here no more!”

Down the tollbooth stair came they
And then they all made haste to ride,
They tied Jock up on Willie’s bay
For he could neither sit nor stride.

Then Hobie how he smiled and laughed,
Says Jock how winsomely ye ride,
With both your feet upon one side,
In troth ye sit just like a bride.”

And when they came into Swinburne wood,
Hobie had Flanders files three
To file Jock’s bolts from off his feet,
That he might ride more easily.

Then Michael looked o’er his left shoulder
“To horse, to horse now, lads” cried he;
“For yonder comes the lord lieutenant
With twenty men in his company.”

And there was horsing then in haste,
And cracking of whips out o’er the lea,
But when they came to Tyne water
It now was rumbling like the sea

Up then spoke poor Mudge the Miller,
“I’ll bless ye all and say goodbye
My horse is limping, he will not swim
I’d rather be taken here than die.”

“Fie on thee, Mudge,” then says Hobie,
“It’s only the fearful that must die
I’ll take thy horse, thou take my mare,
And the Devil drown my mare and thee”

Now the water they all have taken,
By ones and twos they all swam free;
When they stood on the other side
They wrung their clothes right drunkenly

“Come through the water, now Lord Lieutenant,
Come through & drink some wine with me,
There is an alehouse not far off,
It will not cost ye one penny.”

“O now let all your taunting be
For I think ye are some witch’s son,
There’s not a man in the king’s army
That would have tried what you have done”

“Well then if ye be gone with the rogue,
Pray throw the irons across to me”
“We’ll keep them to shoe our horses true,
They’ve bought them all full dear from thee.”

The seven are up again on horse,
To Liddisdale fast as they could ride,
Upon the morn he was to die,
Jock danced a turn by the fireside.

The Laird says “Bless ye, Hobie Noble,
A bowl for all the loyal men!
Ye’ve fetched us home good Jock o the Side,
We thought we never would see again.”

And then they drank a bowl of punch
And after that they filled another
If they don’t give o’er, they’re drinkin’ yet,
Just as they had been brother and brother.
Track Name: The Rose of Yarrow
At Dryhope lived a lady fair,
The fairest flower in Yarrow,
And she refused nine noble men
For a servant lad in Gala.

Her father said that he should fight
The nine lords all to-morrow,
And he that should the victor be,
Would win the Rose o Yarrow.

She kissed his lips, and combed his hair,
As oft she’d done before, O,
An set him on her milk-white steed,
To fight for her in Yarrow.

When he got oer yon high, high hill,
And down the flat so narrow
It was there he saw nine armed men,
In the gloomy dens Yarrow

“There’s nine of you and one of me,
Which makes the chances narrow,
But I will fight you man for man,
To win the Rose of Yarrow.

There he flew and there he slew,
And there he wounded sore O,
When her brother sprang from a bush behind,
And ran his body through.

They took the young man by the heels,
And trailed him like a harrow,
And then they threw his body in
To a whirlpool of Yarrow.

The lady said, “I dreamed a dream
That fills my heart with sorrow,
I dreamed I was pullin’ the heather green,
In the gloomy dens of Yarrow.”

Her brother said, “I’ll read your dream
And take it not in sorrow;
Go to your true love if ye please,
For he’s sleepin’ sound in Yarrow.”

She sought him east, she sought him west,
She searched the forest thorough,
Until she spied her own true love,
Lying deeply drowned in Yarrow.

His hair was full five quarters long,
Its colour was of yellow;
She twined it round her lily hand,
And drew him out of Yarrow.

She kissed his lips, and combed his head,
As oft she’d done before, O;
She laid him oer her milk-white steed,
And bore him home from Yarrow.

“I meant to make my bed full wide,
But you may make it narrow;
For now I’ve none to be my guide,
But a dead man drowned in Yarrow.”

“Go hold your tongue,” her father said,
“And take it not in sorrow;
’ll wed ye to a better match
Than a servant lad in Gala.”

“Hold your own tongue, my father dear,
And breed me no more sorrow;
A better lord was never born,
Than the lad I lost in Yarrow.

‘Take home your oxen, take home your cows,
For they have bred our sorrow;
I wish that they had all gone mad,
When they came first to Yarrow.’
Track Name: May Colvin
O False Sir John a-wooing came
To a maid of beauty fair,
May Colven was this lady’s name
Her father’s only heir.

He wooed her out, he wooed her in
He wooed her night and day,
Until he got this maid’s consent
To mount, and to ride away.

He went down to her father’s stable,
Where all the steeds did stand,
And he’s taken one of the finest steeds
That was in her father’s land.

He’s got on and she’s got on,
And fast as they could flee,
Until they came to a lonesome part,
A rock by the side of the sea.

“Leap off the steed, my May Colven,
For your bridal bed you see;
Here I have drowned seven young ladies
And the eighth one you shall be.

“Cast off, cast off thy silken gown
Deliver it to me
For it looks too good and too costly
To rot in the salt salt sea

“Cast off, cast off thy Holland smock,
Deliver it to me
For it looks too good and too costly
To rot in the sea with thee.”

“O turn you about O false Sir John,
And look to the leaf of the tree,
For it never became a gentleman
A naked woman to see.”

He turned himself straight round about
To look to the leaf of the tree,
She twined her arms around his middle
And threw him into the sea.

“O help, O help my May Colven,
O help or else I’ll drown;
I’ll take you home to your father’s gate,
And set you down safe and sound.”

“No help, no help, O false Sir John
No help nor pity for thee
Though seven young ladies you have drowned
The eighth shall not be me.”

So she went on her father’s steed,
As swift as she could flee,
And she was at her father’s gate
Before the break of day.

Up then spoke the pretty parrot,
“May Colven, where have you been?
What has become of false Sir John
That wooed you so late yestreen,

He wooed you out, he woo’d you in,
He wooed you night and day;
Until he got your own consent
For to mount and go away.”

“O hold your tongue, my pretty parrot,
And tell no tales on me;
And your cup shall be of the flowered gold,
Your cage from the root of a tree.”

Up then spoke her father
In the bed-chamber where he lay:
“What ails the pretty parrot,
That prattles so long before the day?”

“There came a cat to my cage door
It almost a-choked me,
And I was calling on May Colven
To take the cat from me.”
Track Name: Death of Parcy Reed
Death of Parcy Reed

The Liddesdale Crosiers have ridden a raid,
And they had far better stayed at home,
For they have lost a gallant lad,
Whinton Crosier it was his name.

Oh Parcy Reed took young Whinton Crosier,
And he’s delivered him to the law.
But old Crosier he has made answer,
He’d make the tower of Troughend fall.

O Parcy Reed has gone a-hunting,
And he’d have far better stayed at home;
For the three false Halls of Girsonsfield,
They all along with him have gone.

They hunted up and they hunted down,
They hunted all Rede Water round,
Till weariness did seize on Parcy;
At the Batinghope he lay him down.

They stole the bridle off his steed,
And they put water in his long gun;
They fixed his sword within the sheath,
That out again it would not come.

“Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
For we do fear ye’ve slept too long;
For yonder’s the five Crosiers coming,
They’re coming by the Hangin-stone.”

“If they be five, and we be four,
If ye will all stand true to me,
Then every man ye will take one,
And two of them ye may leave to me.”

“O stay, O stay, O Tommy Hall,
O stay O man, and fight with me!
If ever we see the Troughend again,
My good black mare I will give thee.’

“I will not stay, I cannot stay
I dare not stay to fight for thee;
For they would find out Parcy Reed,
And then they’d slay both thee and me.”

“O stay, O stay, O Johnnie Hall,
O stay, O man, and fight with me!
If ever we see the Troughend again,
A yoke of oxen I will give thee.”

“I will not stay, I cannot stay
I dare not stay to fight for thee;
For they would find out Parcy Reed,
And then they’d slay both you and me.”

“O stay, O stay, O Willie Hall,
O stay, O man, and fight with me!
If ever we see the Troughend again,
The half of my land I will give thee.”

“I will not stay, I can not stay
I dare not stay to fight for thee;
For they would find out Parcy Reed,
And then they’d slay both thee and me.”

“O foul fall ye, traitors all!
Ye’ve taken bridle, sword and gun from me;
Ye’ve left me in a fair field standing,
And I can neither fight nor flee.”

The Crosiers fell on Parcy Reed,
They mangled him most cruelly;
They hacket off his hands and feet,
And left him lying on the lea.

“There’s some will call me Parcy Reed,
And some will call me Laird Troughend;
It’s no matter what they call me,
My foes have made me ill to ken.

“A farewell to my daughter Jean,
A farewell to my young sons five;
Had you been at your father’s hand,
I had this night been a man alive.

“A farewell to my wedded wife,
A farewell to my brother John,
And the three false Halls of Girsonsfield,
They’ll never be trusted nor believed again

“The laird o Clennel wears my bow,
The laird o Brandon wears my brand;
Who ever rides in the Border side,
Will mind the Laird of the Troughend.”
Track Name: The Rookhope Ryde
Rookhope stands in a pleasant place,
If the false thieves woud let it be;
But away they steal our goods apace,
And ever an ill death may they die!

Great troubles Weardale has had in hand,
With borderers raiding hither and thither,
But the greatest fray that ever they had
Was with the men of Thirlwa and Williehaver.

They gathered together so royally,
The stoutest men and the best in gear,
And he that rode not on a horse,
I’m he rode on a weil-fed mare.

So in the morning, before they came out,
So well, I say, they broke their fast;
In the forenoon they came unto a high field,
Where some of them did eat their last.

Then o’er the moss, and o’er the moor,
With whistle, prance and cry came they,
One of them to another did say,
“I think we have men enough this day.

“For Weardale men are gone from home;
They are so far out-o’er yon fell
That some of them’s with the two earls rising,
And others fast in Barnard castell.

“We shall get sheep and horse enough,
For there is none but women at home;
The only fend that they can make,
Is loudly cry as they are slain.”

Then in at Rookhope-head they came,
And there they thought have had their prey,
But they were spied coming over the Dry Rig,
Soon upon Saint Nicholas’ day.

Rowley was the first man that did them spy;
With that he raised a mighty cry;
The cry it came down Rookhope burn,
And spread through Weardale hastily.

Then word came to the bailiff’s house,
At the East Gate, where he did dwell;
He was walked out to the Smale Burns,
Which stands above the Hanging Well.

His wife was sad when she heard tell,
So well she knew her husband wanted gear;
She had him saddle his horse in haste,
And neither forget sword, jack, nor spear.

But when the bailiff gathered the men,
They numbered fifty at the best
The thieves of Thirlwa and Williehaver
Made up a hundred at the worst.

But all that was in Rookhope-head,
And all that was in Nuketon Cleugh,
Where Weardale men o’ertook the thieves,
There they fought them well enough.

From the time the fray began,
It lasted only but an hour,
Till many a man lay weaponless,
And many a man was wounded sore.

Also before that hour was done,
Four of the thieves were slain,
Besides all those that wounded were,
Eleven more were prisoner taken.

One of our Weardale men was slain,
Rowland Emerson, sad to tell,
Because he fought unto the right.
I trust to God his soul is well,

The rascal thieves, they have good hearts,
They never think to be o’erthrown;
Three banners against Weardale men they bore,
As if the world were all their own.

The Weardale men, they have good hearts,
They are as stiff as any tree;
For, if they’d every one been slain,
Never a foot back man would flee.

And such a storm amongst them fell
As I think you never heard the like,
For he that bears his head so high,
He oft-times falls into the dyke.
Track Name: Hobie Noble
Foul fall the breast first treason bred in!
That Liddisdale may safely say,
For in it there was both 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 flee,
Since brave Noble is sold away.

Now Hobie he was an English man,
Born into Bewcastle dale,
But his misdeeds they were so great,
They banished him to Liddisdale.

At Kershope-foot the tryst was set,
Kershope of the lily lee;
And there was traitor Sim o the Mains,
With him a private company

Then Hobie has girded his body well,
It was with both good iron and steel;
And he’s pulled out a fringed grey,
And down the water, he rode him well.

“Well may ye be, my comrades five!
And aye, what is your wills with me?”
Then they cried all with one consent,
“A welcome here, brave Noble, to thee.

“Will you with us in England ride?
And your safe-warrant we will be,
If we get a horse worth a hundred pound,
The first o them shall go to thee.”

“The land-sergeant has me at feud;
I dare not into England ride,
For Peter o Whitfield his brother’s dead,
I know not what evil may betide

“And Anton Shiel, he loves not me
For I got two drifts of his sheep;
The great Earl o Whitfield loves not me,
No gear from me he e’er could keep.

“But will ye stay till the day go down,
Until the night come o’er the ground,
And I’ll be a guide worth any three
That may in Liddisdale be found.”

He’s guided them o’er moss and moor,
O’er hill and dale, and many a down,
Until they came to the Foulbogshiel,
And there brave Noble, he lighted down.

Then word has gone to the land-sergeant,
In Askerton where that he lay:
“The deer that ye have hunted long
Is seen into the Waste this day.”

“Then Hobie Noble is that deer;
I’m sure he carries the style full high!
Oft has he beat your sleuth-hounds back,
And set yourselves at little sway.

“Go warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,
See they shaft their arrows on the wall
Warn Williehaver and Spear-Adam,
On the Rodrie-haugh to meet me all.”

Then Hobie Noble has dreamed a dream,
In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;
He thought his horse beneath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.

“Get up, get up, my comrades five,
For I think this makes a full ill day
And the worst cloak of this company,
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.”

Now Hobie thought the ways were clear,
But, ever alas! it was not so;
They were beset with cruel men and keen,
That away brave Noble could not go.

“Yet follow me, my comrades five,
And see with me ye keep good array,
And the worst cloak of this company,
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.”

Now Hobie had but a laddie’s sword,
But he did more than a laddie’s deed,
In the midst of Conscouthart green,
He broke it o’er Jers o Wigham’s head.

There was heaps o men then Hobie before,
And other heaps was him behind,
That had he been strong as Wallace was,
Away brave Noble he could not win.

Now they have taken Hobie Noble,
With his own bowstring they have him bound;
And I’m sure his heart was ne’er so sore,
As when his own five held him down.

They have taken him for West Carlisle;
They asked him if he knew the way;
Whate’er he thought, yet little he said;
He knew the way as well as they.

They’ve taken him up the Ricker-gate;
The wives they cast their windows wide,
And every wife to another did say,
“That’s the man loosed Jock o the Side!”

“Fie on ye women! Why call ye me man?
For it’s no man that I’m used like,
I’m but like some worn out hound,
Has been fighting in a dirty dike.”

They’ve taken him up through Carlisle town,
And set him by the chimney-fire;
With a wheat-loaf and a can o beer,
Saying, “Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!”

“Confess my lord’s horses,” Hobie, they say,
“And the morn in Carlisle ye’ll not die;”
“How shall I confess them? ”Hobie says,
“For I never saw them with mine eye.”

Then Hobie has sworn a full great oath,
By the day that he was gotten or born,
He never had nothing of my lord’s,
That either eats the grass or corn.

“Now fare thee well, sweet Mangerton!
For I think again I’ll ne’er thee see,
I would betray no lad alive,
For all the gold in Christendie.

“And fare thee well now, Liddisdale,
Both the high land and the low!
Keep ye well from traitor Mains!
For gold and gear he’ll sell ye all.

“I’d rather be called Hobie Noble,
In Carlisle, where he suffers for his fault,
Before I were called traitor Mains,
That eats and drinks of meal and malt.”
Track Name: Dick o the Broom
Now Liddesdale has lain long in,
There is no riding there at all;
Their horses are grown so lazy and fat,
They’re loath to stir out of the stall.
fal lal de ral la

Fair Johnie Armstrong to his brother did say,
“Willie, a-riding we will go
Let us away to Cumberland
Perhaps we’ll return with booty in tow.”

Then they came on to Hutton Hall,
They rode that proper place about;
But the laird he was the wiser man,
For he had left no cattle without.

For he had left no gear to steal,
Except six sheep upon a lea;
Says Johnie, “I’d rather in England die
Before those six sheep go to Liddesdale with me.”

“But who was that last man we met,
Brother, as we came over the hill?”
“Some men call him Dick o the Broom
They say that he is an innocent fool.”

“That fool has three as good cows of his own
As there are in all Cumberland, brother,” said he,
“Betide me life, betide me death,
These cows shall go to Liddesdale with me.”

Then they came on to the poor fool’s house,
And they have broken his walls so wide;
They’ve loosed out Dick o the Broom’s three cows,
& taken three coverlets from his wife’s bed.

Then on the morn, when the day was light,
The shouts and cries rose loud and high:
“O hold your tongue, my wife,” he says,
“And I shall bring more cows to thee”

Now Dickie’s gone to the good Lord Scroope,
And oh what a dreary fool was he:
“Hold your tongue, my fool,” he says,
“For I may not stand to jest with thee.”

“Shame fall all your jesting, my lord,” says Dick,
“For no such jesting agrees with me,
Liddesdale has been in my house this last night,
And they have taken my three cows from me.

“Now I may no longer in Cumberland dwell,
To be your poor fool and your loyal
Unless ye give me leave, my lord,
To go to Liddesdale and steal.”

“To give thee leave, my fool,” says Scroope,
“Thou speakest against mine honor and me;
“Unless thou give me thy oath and thy hand
That ye’ll steal from none but who stole from thee.”

“Here is my oath and my right hand,
My head shall hang on Hairibee
I’ll never cross Carlisle sands again,
If I steal from any but who stole from me”

Dickie took leave of lord and master,
And oh what a merry fool was he;
He’s bought a bridle and a pair of new spurs,
And packed them all up in his breeches’ thigh.

Then Dickie’s come on to Liddisdale,
Even as fast as he could flee;
Dickie’s come on to Puddinburn-house,
Where there were thirty Armstrongs and three.

“I’m come to complain of your man Fair Johnie,
And then of his brother Willie,’” says he;
‘How they have been in my house this last night,
And they have taken my three cows from me.”

“Ha!” says Fair Johnie, “We will him hang”;
“No,” says Willie, “We will him slay;”
Then up spoke another young Armstrong,
“We’ll give him a beating, and send him away.”

But up and spoke the good Laird’s Jock,
The best fella in all the company
“Sit thy ways down a little while, Dickie,
And a piece of thy own cow’s haunch I’Il give thee.”

But Dickie’s heart it grew so great
That never a bite was he able to eat.
And the only prayer that Dickie prayed there, was
“I wish I’d amends of my cows from thee”

Then it was the custom of Puddinburn,
And the house of Mangerton, all hail!
These that came not at the first call,
They got no more meat until the next meal.

The lads, that hungry and weary were,
Above the door-head flung the key;
Dickie he took good notice to that;
“Oh, There will be a booty for me.”

Dickie arose to take his leave,
And into his pocket he slipped the key
And into the stable Dickie has gone,
Where there stood thirty horse and three.

He’s tied them all up with St Mary’s knot,
All of their horses he tied but three,
He leaped on one, took another in hand
And away as fast as he could flee.

Then on the morn, when the day grew light,
The shouts and cries rose loud and high;
“Where is that fool?” Fair Johnie did cry;
‘”He’s taken the horse of my brother and me.”

“Ye would never be told,” says the good Laird’s Jock;
“Have ye not found my tales are real?
Ye never would out of England stay,
Till the crooked and blind and all would steal.”

“But lend me thy bay,” Fair Johnie did say,
“There’s no horse loose in the stable but he;
And I’ll either fetch Dick o’ the Broom again,
Or the day is come that he shall die.’

He took the Laird’s Jock’s jack on his back,
A two-handed sword to hang by his thigh;
He put the steel cap on his head,
And galloped on to follow Dickie.

Then Dickie was not a mile off the town,
A mile and a mile and barely three,
When he was o’ertaken by Fair Johnie Armstrong,
Hand for hand on Cannonbie lea.

“Abide thee, bide, now, Dickie, then,
The day is come that thou must die.”
Dickie says over his shoulder, “Fair Johnie,
Has thou any more in thy company?”

Fair Johnie took up his two-handed sword,
Thought well to slay the innocent fool;
But the powers above were more than he,
He ran but the poor fool’s jerkin through.

Together they ran, and ever they blew,
Till the fool took his two-handed sword away,
Dickie couldn’t get to him with the blade of the sword,
But struck with the pommel under the eye.

Thus Dickie has felled Fair Johnie Armstrong,
The prettiest man in the south country;
“Gracious mercy,” then Dickie did say,
“I had but two horses, thou hast made me three.”

When Fair Johnie wakened out of his dream,
Stripped of his jack and steel cap was he:
Says, “The Devil go in thy company, Dickie,
I never shall fight with a fool after thee.”

Then Dickie came home to the good Lord Scroope,
But oh what an angry man was he:
“Now Dickie, I neither shall eat meat nor drink,
Until high hanged thou shall be!’

“The shame speed the liars, my Lord,” says Dick,
“This was not the promise ye made to me,
For I’d never gone to Liddesdale to steal,
Had I not got my leave from thee.”

“But what made thee steal the Laird’s Jock’s horse?
& rascal what made thou steal him,” says he,
“For long might thou in Cumberland dwell
Before the Laird’s Jock had stolen from thee.”

“I gave my oath and my right hand
To steal from none but who stole from me,
I won the horse from Fair Johnie Armstrong,
Hand for hand on Cannonbie lea.

“There is the jack he wore on his back,
This two-handed sword hung low by his thigh,
There is the steel cap was on his head,
I brought all these tokens to let ye see.”

“If this be true thou tells to me;
And I think thou dares not tell a lie—
I’ll give thee twenty pounds for the horse,
Well counted out on thy cloak-lap shall be.

“And I’ll give thee one of my best milk-cows,
To maintain thy wife and thy children three,
And that may be as good, I think,
As any two of thine might be.”

“The shame speed the liars, my lord!” says Dick,
“Think ye always to make a fool of me?
I’ll either have thirty pound for the good horse,
Or else he’s to Mattan Fair with me.”

He gave him thirty pound for the good horse,
All in gold and good money,
And he gave him one of his best milk-cows,
To maintain his wife and his children three.

Then Dickie came down through Carlisle town,
Even as fast as he could flee:
The first of men that he met with,
Was Lord Scrupe’s brother, Bailiff Glozenburrie.

“Well be ye met, my good Ralph Scrupe!”
“Welcome, my brother’s fool!” says he;
“Where did thou get Fair Johnie Armstrong’s horse?”
“Where did I get him but steal him,” says Dickie.

“I’ll give thee fifteen pound for the good horse, well counted out on thy cloak-lap shall be
And I’ll give thee one of my best milk-cows to maintain thy wife and thy children three.”

“The shame speed the liars, my lord!” says Dick,
“Think ye always to make a fool of me?
I’ll either have thirty pound for the good horse,
Or else he’s to Mattan fair with me.”

He gave him thirty pound for the good horse,
All in gold and good money;
And he gave him one of his best milk-cows,
To maintain his wife and his children three.

Then Dickie leapt a leap full high,
And oh what a loud laugh laughed he:
‘”I wish the neck of this horse were broken,
If one of the others were better than he!”

Then Dickie came home to his wife again,
Judge ye how the poor fool had sped;
He gave her three score of English pounds
For the three old coverlets taken off her bed.

“Here, take thee these two cows as good,
I think, as all thy three might be;
And yet here is a white-footed nag;
I trust he will carry both thee and me.

“But we may no longer in Cumberland dwell;
The Armstrongs they would hang me sure.”
So Dickie took leave at lord and master,
To dwell in peace at Burgh under Stanemuir.