And when thou had tane away my three ky, And he took three co'erlets aff my wife's bed. Then Johnie let a spear fa' laigh by his thigh, Thought weil to hae slain the innocent, I trow; But the powers above were mair than he, For he ran but the poor fool's jerkin through. Together they ran, or ever they blan, This was Dickie the fool and he; Dickie cou'd na win to him wi' the blade o' the sword, Now Dickie has feld fair Johnie Armstrong, I had but twa horse thou has made me three. He has tane the laird's jack aff his back, The twa handed sword that hang by his thigh; He has tane the steel-cap aff his head; Johnie, I'll tell my master I met wi' thee. When Johnie waken'd out o' his dream, And is thou gane, now Dickie than, And is thou gane, now Dickie, than, Then Dickie's come hame to lord and master, E'en as fast as he may drie.- Now Dickie, I'll neither eat nor drink, Till hie hanged thou shalt be. The shame speed the liars, my lord, quo' Dickie, But what gard thou steal the laird's Jock's horse, Indeed I wat ye lied, my lord, And e'en sae loud as I hear ye lie, I wan him frae his man, fair Johnie Armstrong, There's the jack was on his back, The twa handed sword that hang laigh by his thigh; And there's the steel-cap was on his head; I hae a' these takens to let thee see. If that be true thou to me tells, I trow thou dare na tell a lie, I'll gi' thee twenty punds for the good horse, And I'll gi' thee ane o' my best milk-ky As ony twa o' thine might be. The shame speed the liers, my lord, quo' Dickie, I'll either hae thirty punds for the good horse, He's gi'en him thirty punds for the good horse, He has gi'en him ane o' his best milk-ky, Then Dickie came down through Carlisle town, Was my lord's brother, Bayliff Glozenburrie.* But wilt thou sell me fair Johnie Armstrong's horse. I'll gi' thee fifteen punds for the good horse, The shame speed the liers, my lord, quo' Dickie, He's gi'en him thirty punds for the good horse, He has gi'en him ane o' his best milk-ky, Then Dickie lap a loup fu' hie, And I wat a loud laugh laughed he; I wish the neck o' the third horse were broken; Then Dickie's com❜d hame to his wife again, He has gi'en her threescore English punds For the three auld co'erlets was tane aff her bed. * Brother to Lord Scroope, the then Governor of Carlisle. Hae, take thee these twa as good ky, But I may nae langer in Cumberland bide, JOCK O' THE SIDE. Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid, For Mangerton-house Auld Downie is gane, Then up and bespake the Lord Mangerton, Mitchel is kill'd, and tane they hae my son Johnie. Ne'er fear sister Downie, quo' Mangerton, Three men I'll take, to set him free, Weel harness'd a' wi' best o' steel; The laird's Jock ane, the laird's Wat twa; Now Hobie 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 a' be shod; Like 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, Wi' branks and brecham on ilk mare. Sae now a' their horses are shod the wrang way; At the Cholerford they a' light down, And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon, But when they came to Newcastle town, They fand their tree three ells o'er laigh- Then up and spake the laird's ain Jock: There's naething for't, the gates wi' maun force: But when they came the gates unto, A proud porter withstood baith men and horse. |