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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'.-
And see it be by break o' day:
And there I think w'll get our prey.
In the Foul-bog-sheil where that he lay:
The cocks could crow and the day could dawn,
And I wat so even down fell the rain : If Hobie had no waken'd at that time,
In the Foul-bog-shiel he had been tane or slain.
Get up, get up, my feiries five;
For I wat here makes a fu’ill day; And the warst clock of this companie,
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.
But ever alas ! it was not sae;
That away brave Noble could not gae.
And see of me ye keep good ray;. And the worst clock of this companie,
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.
And other heaps was him behind;
Away brave Noble he could not win.
Then Hobie he had but'a laddies sword,
But he did more than a laddies deed; In the midst of Conscowthart green
He brake it o'er Jersawigham's head. Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble,
Wi' his ain bow-string they band him sae: And I wat his heart was ne'er sae sair
As when his ain five band him on the brae.
They have tane him for West Carlisle;
They ask'd him if he knew the way. Whate'er he thought yet little he said,
He knew the way as well as they.They hae tane 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 its nae man that I'm us'd like; I'm but like a forfoughen hound,
Has been fighting in a dirty syke. Then they hae tane him up thro' Carlisle town,
And set him by the chimney fire;
And that was little his desire,
Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat,
And after that a can o' beer.Then they cried a' wi' ae concent,
Eat brave Noble and make good cheer. Confess
lord's horse, Hobie they say;
Then Hobie has sworn a fu' great aith
By the day that he was gotten or born, He never had ony thing o' my lord's,
That either eat 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 goud in Christentie. And fare thee weel now Liddisdale,
Baith the bie land and the law Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains;
For goud and gear he'll sell ye a'. I'd rather be ca'd Hobie Noble,
In Carlisle where he suffers for his faut, Before I were ca'd traitor Mains,
That eats and drinks of meal and maut.
The three preceding Ballads are evidently of one age, viz. the reign of James VI. They possess very uncommon merit, and from their minuteness of detail, present us with a view of life and manners, more striking than any commentary that could be added to them. In the poems of Richard Maitland, who was Chancellor to James, we find one“ against the thieves of Liddisdail," in which some of the principal heroes of these Ballads have a conspicuous place,
Thai thieves that steals, and tursis hame,
Will of the Lawis,
To mak bare wawis
Baith hen and cock
The Laird's Jok
They leave nor spindle, spoon nor speit,
John of the Park
He is weel kend, John of the Side,
He never tires
Owre muir and mires
And all the lave
The divel receive,
We may add, to complete the history of these outlaws, that poor Dick o' the Cow, was pursued into his retreat by the Armstrongs, and most cruelly murdered. That the five Armstrongs who betrayed Hobie Noble, were pursued by the relentless vengeance of the chief of the clan, the laird of Mangerton; to avoid which, Sim o' the Mains, who was the chief actor in the faithless and ungrateful transaction, fed into England, where he was shortly after taken and hanged.
THE HEIR OF LINNE.
To sing a song I will begin :
Which was the unthrifty heir of Linne.
His father was a right good lord,
His mother a lady of high degree;
And he lov'd keeping companie.
To drink and revel every night,
It was I ween, his heart's delight.
To always spend and never spare,
Of gold and fee he mote he bare.
Sac fares the unthrifty lord of Linne
Till all his gold is gone and spent; And he maun sell his lands sae broad,
His house, and lands, and all his rent. His father had a keen steward,
And John o' the Scales was called he: But John is become a gentelman,
And John has got baith gold and fee. Says, Welcome, welcome, lord of Linne,
Let nought disturb thy merry cheer, If thou wilt sell thy lands sae broad,
Good store of gold I'll give thee here. My gold is gone, my money is spent;
My land now take it unto thee, Give me the gold, good John o' the Scales,
And thine for aye my land shall be. Then John he did him to record draw,
And John he gave him a gods-pennie ;** But for every pound that John agreed,
The land, I wis, was well worth three. He told him the gold upon the board,
He was right glad his land to win: The land is mine, the gold is thine,
And now I'll be the lord of Linne. Thus he hath sold his land sae broad,
Baith hill and holt, and moor and fen, All
but a poor and lonesome lodge,
That stood far aff in a lonely glen. For sae he to his father hight:
My son when I am gane, sayd he, Then thou wilt spend thy land sae broad,
And thou wilt spend thy gold so free.