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And when thou had tane away my three ky,

Thou thought in thy heart thou was no well sped; But sent thy billie Willie o'er the know,

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,

Îhis was Dickie the fool and he; Dickie cou'd na win to him wi' the blade o'the sword,

But feld ’im wi' the plumet under the eie. Now Dickie has feld fair Johnie Armstrong,

The prettiest man in the south countrie. Gramercy, then can Dickie say,

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,

I wat a drierie man was he:
And is thou gane, now Dickie than,

The shame gae in thy companie.
And is thou gane, now Dickie, than,

The shame gae in thy companie;
For, if I should live this hundred years,

I ne'er shall fight wi' a fool after thee.
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,

That was no the promise ye made to me;
For I'd ne'er gane t Liddisdale t steal,

Till I had got my leave at thee.
But what gard thou steal the laird's Jock's horse,

And limmer, what gard thou steal him, quo' he; For lang might thou in Cumberland dwelt,

Ere the laird's Jock had stawn frae thee.

Indeed I wat ye lied, my lord,

And e'en sae loud as I hear ye lie,
I wan him fraç his man, fair Johnie Armstrong,

Hand for hand on Cannobie Lee.

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,

Weil teld in thy cloak lap shall be.
And I'll gi' thee ane o' my best milk-ky

To maintain thy wife and children three;
And that may be as good, I think,

As ony twa o' thine might be.
The shame speed the liers, my lord, quo' Dickie,

Trow ye aye to ma
I'll either hae thirty punds for the good horse,

Or he's gae t' Mortan fair wi' me.
He's gi'en him thirty punds for the good horse,

All in goud and good monie;
He has gi'en him ane o' his best milk-ky,

To maintain his wife and children three.

a fool o'me;

Then Dickie came down through Carlisle town,

E’en as fast as he might drie; The first o' men that he met with,

Was my lord's brother, Bayliff Glozenburric.* Weil may ye be, my good Ralph Scroope.

Welcome, my brother's fool, quo' he; Where did thou get fair Johnie Armstrong's horse.

Where did I get him but steal him, quo' he. But wilt thou sell me fair Johnie Armstrong's horse.

And billie wilt thou sell him to me, quo' he.
Aye, and tell me the monie on my cloak lap;

For there's no ae fardin I'll trust thee.
I'll gi' thee fifteen punds for the good horse,

Weil tel'd on thy cloak lap shall be;
And I'll gi' thee ane o' my best milk-ky,

To maintain thy wife and children three. The shame speed the liers, my lord, quo' Dickie,

Trow ye aye to make a fool o' me, quo' he;
I'll either hae thirty punds for the good horse,

Or he's gae t' Mortan fair wi' me.
He's gi'en him thirty punds for the good horse,

All in goud and good monie;
He has gi'en him ane o' his best milk-ky,

To maintain his wife and children three.
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;

For I hae a better o' my ain, if better can be.
Then Dickie's com'd hame to his wife again,

Judge ye how the poor fool sped,
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,

I trow as a' thy three might be; And yet here is a white-footed nagie,

I think he'll carry baith thee and me. But I may nae langer in Cumberland bide,

The Armstrongs they will hang me hie: But Dickie's tane leave at lord and master;

And at Burgh under Stanmuir there dwells he.

JOCK O' THE SIDE.

Now Liddisdale has ridden a raid,

But I wat they had better staid at hame;
For Mitchel o' Winfield he is dead,

And my son Johnie is pris'ner tane.
For Mangerton-house Auld Downie is gane,

Her coats she has kilted up to her knee;
And down the water wi' speed she rins,

While the tears, in spaits, fa' fast frae her eie. Then

up and bespake the Lord Mangerton, What news, what news, sister Downie, to me? Bad news, bad news, my lord Mangerton,

Mitchel is kill'd, and tane they hae my son Johnie. Ne'er fear sister Downie, quo' Mangerton,

I hae yokes of oxen four and twentie,
My barns, my byres, and my faulds a' weel fill'd;

And I'll part wi' them a' ere Johnie shall die.

Three men I'll take, to set him free,

Weel harness'd a' wi' best o' steel; The English rogues may hear, and drie

The weight of their braid swords to feel.

The laird's Jock ane, the laird's Wat twa;

Oh! Hobie Noble thou ane maun be, Thy coat is blue, thou has been true,

Since England banish'd thee to me.

Now Hobie was an English man,

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;

And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine, Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse behind;

And on they rode for the water o' Tyne. At the Cholerford they a' light down,

And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon, A tree they cut, wi' fifteen naggs upo' ilk side,

To climb up the wa' o' Newcastle town.

But when they came to Newcastle town,

And were alighted at the wa',
They fand their tree three ells o'er laigh-

They fand their stick baith short and sma'.

Then

up and spake the laird's ain Jock: There's naething for't, the gates wi' maun force: But when they came the gates unto,

A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.

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