Chapter V: Part 5

My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel fill'd,

And I'll part wi' them a', ere Johnnie 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 dree

The weight o' their braid-swords to feel.

"The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa,

O Hobie Noble, thou ane maun be;

Thy coat is blue, thou hast 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.

(_byres_, cow-houses. _dree_, suffer. _caugers_, carriers or dealers.)

"Your armour gude ye maunna show,

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 Choler-ford they a' light down,

And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon,

A tree they cut, wi' fifteen nags 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 found their tree three ells o'er laigh,

They found their stick baith short and sma.

Then up and spake the Laird's ain Jock,

"There's naething for't, the gates we maun force;"

But when they came the gates unto,

A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.

(_weir_, war. _branks_, rope bridles. _brecham_, collar.

_tree_, pole. _nags_, notches. _laigh_, low.)

His neck in twa I wot they hae wrung,

Wi' hand or foot he ne'er play'd paw;

His life and his keys at ance they hae tane,

And cast his body ahind the wa'.

Now soon they reach Newcastle jail,

And to the pris ner thus they call;

"Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the side,

Or is thou wearied o' thy thrall?"

Jock answers thus, wi' dolefu' tone--

"Aft, aft I wake--I seldom sleep:

But wha's this kens my name sae weel,

And thus to hear my waes does seek?"

Then up spake the good Lairds Jock,

"Neer fear ye now, my billy," quo' he;

"For here's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat,

And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free."

"O hald thy tongue, and speak nae mair,

And o' thy talk now let me be;

For if a' Liddisdale were here the night,

The morn's the day that I maun die.

"Full fifteen stane o' Spanish iron,

They hae laid a' right sair on me;

Wi' locks and keys I am fast bound

Into this dungeon mirk and dreary."

(_ne'er played paw_, never stirred.)

"Fear ye no that," quo' the Laird's Jock -,

"A faint heart ne'er won a fair lady;

Work thou within, well work without,

And I'll be bound we set thee free."

The first strong door that they came at,

They loosed it without a key;

The next chained door that they came at,

They gar'd it a' in flinders flee.

The pris'ner now, upo' his back,

The Laird's Jock's gotten up fu' high;

And down the stair, him, irons and a',

Wi' nae sma' speed and joy brings he.

"Now, Jock, I wot," quo' Hobie Noble,

"Part o' the weight ye may lay on me;"

"I wot weel no!" quo' the Laird's Jock,

"I count him lighter than a flea."

Sae out at the gates they a' are gane,

The pris'ner's set on horseback high;

And now wi' speed they've tane the gate,

While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonly.

"O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride,

Wi' baith your feet upo' ae side!

Sae weel's ye're harness'd, and sae trig,

In troth, ye sit like ony bride!"

(_gar'd_, made. _flinders_, splinters. _trig_, trim.)

The night, thou wot, they didna mind,

But hied them on fu' merrily,

Until they came to Choler-ford brae,

Where the water ran like mountains high.

But when they came to Choler-ford,

There they met with an auld man;

Says--"Honest man, will the water ride?

Tell us in haste, if that ye can."

"I wot weel no," quo' the good old man;

"Here I hae lived this thirty years and three,

And I ne'er yet saw the Tyne sae big,

Nor rinnin' ance sae like a sea."

Then up and spake the Laird's saft Wat,

The greatest coward in the company--

"Now halt, now halt, we needna try't;

The day is com'd we a' maun die!"

"Poor faint-hearted thief!" quo' the Laird's ain Jock,

"There'll nae man die but he that's fie;

I'll lead ye a' right safely through;

Lift ye the pris'ner on ahint me."

Sae now the water they a' hae tane,

By anes and twas they a' swam through;

"Here are we a' safe," says the Laird's Jock,

"And, poor faint Wat, what think ye now?"

(_fie_, predestined.)

They scarce the ither side had won,

When twenty men they saw pursue;

Frae Newcastle town they had been sent,

A' English lads, right good and true.

But when the land-sergeant the water saw,

"It winna ride, my lads," quo' he;

Then out he cries--"Ye the pris'ner may take,

But leave the irons, I pray, to me."

"I wot weel no," cry'd the Lairds Jock,

"I'll keep them a'; shoon to my mare they'll be:

My good grey mare--for I am sure,

She's bought them a fu' dear frae thee."

Sae now they're away for Liddisdale,

E'en as fast as they could them hie;

The pris'ner's brought to his ain fire-side,

And there o's airns they make him free.

"Now, Jock, my billy," quo' a' the three,

"The day was com'd thou was to die;

But thou's as weel at thy ain fire-side,

Now sitting, I think, 'tween thee and me."

They hae gar'd fill up ae punch-bowl,

And after it they maun hae anither,

And thus the night they a' hae spent,

Just as they had been brither and brither.

(_airns,_ irons.)

THERE WAS A MAID CAME OUT OF KENT

|There was a maid came out of Kent,

Dainty love, dainty love;

There was a maid came out of Kent,

Dangerous be:

There was a maid came out of Kent,

Fair, proper, small and gent,

As ever upon the ground went,

For so it should be.

The Fire of Frendraught

The reek it rose, and the flame it flew,

And oh the fire augmented high,

Until it came to Lord John's chamber-window

And to the bed where Lord John lay.

"O help me, help me, Lady Frennet!

I never ettled harm to thee;

And if my father slew thy lord,

Forget the deed and rescue me."

(_reek_, smoke. _ettled_, designed.)

He looked east, he looked west,

To see if any help was nigh;

At length his little page he saw,

Who to his lord aloud did cry.

"Loup down, loup down, my master dear!

What though the window's dreigh and high?

I'll catch you in my arms twa,

And never a foot from you I'll flee."

"How can I loup, you little page,

How can I leave this window high?

Do you not see the blazing low,

And my twa legs burnt to my knee?"

(_dreigh_, high. _low_, flame.)

ROBIN HOOD'S DEATH AND BURIAL

|When Robin Hood and Little John,

_Down a down, a down, a down._

Went o'er yon bank of broom,

Said Robin Hood to Little John,

"We have shot for many a pound:

_Hey down, a down, a down._

"But I am not able to shoot one shot more,

My arrows will not flee;

But I have a cousin lives down below,

Please God, she will bleed me."

Now Robin is to fair Kirkley gone,

As fast as he can win;

But before he came there, as we do hear,

He was taken very ill.

And when that he came to fair Kirkley-hall,

He knock'd all at the ring,

But none was so ready as his cousin herself

For to let bold Robin in.

"Will you please to sit down, cousin Robin," she said,

"And drink some beer with me?"

"No, I will neither eat nor drink,

Till I am blooded by thee."

"Well, I have a room, cousin Robin," she said,

"Which you did never see,

And if you please to walk therein,

You blooded by me shall be."

She took him by the lily-white hand,

And led him to a private room,

And there she blooded bold Robin Hood,

Whilst one drop of blood would run.

She blooded him in the vein of the arm,

And lock'd him up in the room;

There did he bleed all the live-long day,

Until the next day at noon.

He then bethought him of a casement door,

Thinking for to be gone;

He was so weak he could not leap,

Nor he could not get down.

He then bethought him of his bugle-horn,

Which hung low down to his knee;

He set his horn unto his mouth,

And blew out weak blasts three.

Then Little John, when hearing him,

As he sat under the tree,

"I fear my master is near dead,

He blows so wearily."

Then Little John to fair Kirkley is gone,

As fast as he can dri'e;

But when he came to Kirkley-hall,

He broke locks two or three:

Until he came bold Robin to,

Then he fell on his knee;

"A boon, a boon," cries Little John,

"Master, I beg of thee."

(_dri'e_, drive.)

"What is that boon," quoth Robin Hood,

"Little John, thou begs of me?" '

"It is to burn fair Kirkley-hall,

And all their nunnery."

"Now nay, now nay," quoth Robin Hood,

"That boon I'll not grant thee;

I never hurt woman in all my life,

Nor man in woman's company.

"I never hurt fair maid in all my time,

Nor at my end shall it be;

But give me my bent bow in my hand,

And a broad arrow 111 let flee;

And where this arrow is taken up,

There shall my grave digg'd be.

"Lay me a green sod under my head,

And another at my feet;

And lay my bent bow by my side,

Which was my music sweet;

And make my grave of gravel and green,

Which is most right and meet.

"Let me have length and breadth enough,

With under my head a green sod;

That they may say, when I am dead,

Here lies bold Robin Hood."

These words they readily promis'd him,

Which did bold Robin please:

And there they buried bold Robin Hood,

Near to the fair Kirklèys.