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He looked over his left shoulder

To try whatever he could see,
And he was aware of his auld father,

Tearing his hair most piteouslie.
'O haud your tongue, my father dear,

And see that ye dinna weep for me! For they may ravish me o' my life,

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;
And when they meet the Bishop's cloak,

To mak' it shorter by the hood.'




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,

But twenty men as stout as he,
Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en,

Wi' eight score in his cumpanie.
They band his legs beneath the steed,

They tied his hands behind his back; They guarded him fivesome on each side,

And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack. They led him thro' the Liddel-rack,

And also thro' the Carlisle sands; They brought him on to Carlisle castle

To be at my Lord Scroope's commands. ‘My hands are tied, but my tongue is free,

And wha will dare this deed avow? 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.'


Now word is gane to the bold Keeper,

In Branksome Ha’ where that he lay,


That Lord Scroope has ta’en the Kinmont Willie,

Between the hours of night and day. He has ta’en the table wi' his hand,

He garred the red wine spring on hie: Now a curse upon my head,' he said,

‘But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be ! O is my basnet a widow's curch?


lance a wand of the willow-tree? Or my arm a lady's lily hand,

That an English lord should lightly me! And have they ta’en him, Kinmont Willie,

Against the truce of Border tide? And forgotten that the bold Buccleuch

Is keeper here on the Scottish side?
And have they e’en ta’en him, Kinmont Willie,

Withouten either dread or fear?
And forgotten that the bold Buccleuch

Can back a steed or shake a spear? () were there war between the lands,

As well I wot that there is none, I would slight Carlisle castle high,

Though it were builded of marble stone. I would set that castle in a lowe,

And slocken it with English blood ! There's never a man in Cumberland

Should ken where Carlisle castle stood.

But since nae war's between the lands,

And there is peace, and peace should be,

I'll neither harm English lad or lass,

And yet the Kinmont freed shall be !'


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',

Wi' hunting-horns and bugles bright: And five and five cam' wi' Buccleuch,

Like warden's men, arrayed for fight. And five and five like a mason gang

That carried the ladders lang and hie; And five and five like broken men;

And so they reached the Woodhouselee. And as we crossed the 'Bateable Land,

When to the English side we held, 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?'

Quo' fause Sakelde; ‘come tell me true!' 'We go to catch a rank reiver

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 l' 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,

But the never a horse nor man we lost.

And when we reached the Staneshaw-Bank,

The wind was rising loud and hie;
And there the Laird garred leave our steeds,

For fear that they should stamp and neigh.
And when we left the Staneshaw-Bank,

The wind began full loud to blaw;
But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,

When we came beneath the castle wa'.

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