Chapter XXXIV: Appendix: The King of Scots and Andrew Browne (3)

The laird in #B# orders the horses to be shod the wrong way,[321] whereas in #A# the shoes were taken off; and the party must not seem to be gentlemen, Heaven save the mark! but look like corn-cadgers, as in #A#. At Cholerford they cut a tree with fifteen nags, #B# 11, #C# with fifty nags, on each side, #D# twenty snags, and three long ones on the top; but when they come to Newcastle it proves to be too short, as the ladders are in the historical account of the release of Kinmont Willie. The Laird’s Jock says they must force the gate. A proud porter withstands them; they wring his neck, and take his keys, #B# 13, 14, #C# 10 (cf. No 116, st. 65, No 119, 70, 71, and III, 95 note [86]). When they come to the jail, they let Jock know that they mean to free him; he is hopeless; the day is come he is to die; fifteen stone of iron (fifty, #C#) is laid on him. Work thou within and we without, says the Laird’s Jock. One door they open and one they break. The Laird’s Jock gets John o the Side on his back and takes him down the stair, declining help from Hobie. They put the prisoner on a horse, with the same jest as before; the night is wet, as it was when Kinmont Willie was loosed, but they hie on merrily. They had no trouble in crossing the Tyne when they were coming, but now it is running like a sea. The old man had never seen it so big; the Laird Wat says they are all dead men. Set the prisoner on behind me, cries the gallant Laird’s Jock, and they all swim through. Hardly have they won the other side when twenty Englishmen who are pursuing them reach the river. The land-sergeant says that the water will not ride, and calls to them to throw him the irons; they may have the rogue. The Laird’s Jock answers that he will keep the irons to shoe his grey mare.[322] They bring John to Liddesdale, and there they free him of his irons, #B#. Now, John, they say, ‘the day was come thou wast to die;’ but thou’rt as well at thy own fireside.

In #D# 5 they cut their mares’ tails before starting, and never stop running till they come to Hathery Haugh. Tyne is running like a sea when they come to Chollerton, on their way to the rescue, as in #A#. They cut their tree in Swinburn wood. When they are to re-cross the river, Much says his mare is young and will not swim; the Laird’s Jock (?) says, Take thou mine, and I’ll take thine.

The ballad is one of the best in the world, and enough to make a horse-trooper of any young borderer, had he lacked the impulse. In deference to history, it is put after Kinmont Willie, for it may be a free version of his story.

A

Percy MS., p. 254; Hales and Furnivall, II, 203.

* * * * *

1
Peeter a Whifeild he hath slaine,
And Iohn a Side, he is tane,
And Iohn is bound both hand and foote,
And to the New-castle he is gone.

2
But tydinges came to the Sybill o the Side,
By the water-side as shee rann;
Shee tooke her kirtle by the hem,
And fast shee runn to Mangerton.

3
. . . . . . . .
The lord was sett downe at his meate;
When these tydings shee did him tell,
Neu_er_ a morsell might he eate.

4
But lords, the wrunge their fingars white,
Ladyes did pull themselues by the haire,
Crying, Alas and weladay!
For Iohn o the Side wee shall neu_er_ see more.

5
‘But wee’le goe sell our droues of kine,
And after them our oxen sell,
And after them our troopes of sheepe,
But wee will loose him out of the New Castell.’

6
But then bespake him Hobby Noble,
And spoke these words wonderous hye;
Sayes, Giue me fiue men to my selfe,
And I’le feitch Iohn o the Side to thee.

7
‘Yea, thou’st haue fiue, Hobby Noble,
Of the best _tha_t are in this countrye;
I’le giue thee fiue thousand, Hobby Noble,
_Tha_t walke in Tyuidale trulye.’

8
‘Nay, I’le haue but fiue,’ saies Hobby Noble,
‘_Tha_t shall walke away w_i_th mee;
Wee will ryde like noe men of warr;
But like poore badgers wee wilbe.’

9
They stuffet vp all their baggs w_i_th straw,
And their steeds barefoot must bee;
‘Come on, my bretheren,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Come on yo_u_r wayes, and goe w_i_th mee.’

10
And when they came to Culerton ford,
The water was vp, they cold it not goe;
And then they were ware of a good old man,
How his boy and hee were at the plowe.

11
‘But stand you still,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Stand you still heere at this shore,
And I will ryde to yonder old man,
And see w[h]ere the gate it lyes ore.

12
‘But Christ you saue, father!’ q_uo_th hee,
‘Crist both you saue and see!
Where is the way ou_er_ this fford?
For Christ’s sake tell itt mee!’

13
‘But I haue dwelled heere three score yeere,
Soe haue I done three score and three;
I neu_er_ sawe man nor horsse goe ore,
Except itt were a horse of tree.’

14
‘But fare thou well, thou good old man!
The devill in hell I leave w_i_th thee,
Noe better comfort heere this night
Thow giues my bretheren heere and me.’

15
But when he came to his brether againe,
And told this tydings full of woe,
And then they found a well good gate
They might ryde ore by two and two.

16
And when they were come ou_er_ the fforde,
All safe gotten att the last,
‘Thankes be to God!’ sayes Hobby Nobble,
‘The worst of our perill is past.’

17
And then they came into Howbrame wood,
And there then they found a tree,
And cutt itt downe then by the roote;
The lenght was thirty ffoote and three.

18
And four of them did take the planke,
As light as it had beene a fflee,
And carryed itt to the New Castle,
Where as Iohn a Side did lye.

19
And some did climbe vp by the walls,
And some did climbe vp by the tree,
Vntill they came vpp to the top of the castle,
Where Iohn made his moane trulye.

20
He sayd, God be w_i_th thee, Sybill o the Side!
My owne mother thou art, q_uo_th hee;
If thou knew this night I were here,
A woe woman then woldest thou bee.

21
And fare you well, Lo_rd_ Mangerton!
And eu_er_ I say God be w_i_th thee!
For if you knew this night I were heere,
You wold sell your land for to loose mee.

22
And fare thou well, Much, Millers sonne!
Much, Millars sonne, I say;
Thou has beene better att merke midnight
Then eu_er_ thou was att noone o the day.

23
And fare thou well, my good Lord Clough!
Thou art thy ffathers sonne and heire;
Thou neu_er_ saw him in all thy liffe
But w_i_th him durst thou breake a speare.

24
‘Wee are brothers childer nine or ten,
And sisters children ten or eleven.
We neu_er_ came to the feild to fight,
But the worst of us was counted a man.’

25
But then bespake him Hoby Noble,
And spake these words vnto him;
Saies, Sleepest thou, wakest thou, Iohn o the Side,
Or art thou this castle w_i_thin?

26
‘But who is there,’ q_uo_th Iohn oth Side,
‘_Tha_t knowes my name soe right and free?’
‘I am a bastard-brother of thine;
This night I am comen for to loose thee.’

27
‘Now nay, now nay,’ q_uo_th Iohn o the Side;
‘Itt ffeares me sore _tha_t will not bee;
Ffor a pecke of gold and silver,’ Iohn sayd,
‘In faith this night will not loose mee.’

28
But then bespake him Hobby Noble,
And till his brother thus sayd hee;
Sayes, Four shall take this matter in hand,
And two shall tent our geldings ffree.

29
Four did breake one dore w_i_thout,
Then Iohn brake fiue himsell;
But when they came to the iron dore,
It smote twelue vpon the bell.

30
‘Itt ffeares me sore,’ sayd Much, the Miller,
‘_Tha_t heere taken wee all shalbee;’
‘But goe away, bretheren,’ sayd Iohn a Side,
‘For eu_er_ alas! this will not bee.’

31
‘But ffye vpon thee!’ sayd Hobby Noble;
‘Much, the Miller, fye vpon thee!
‘It sore feares me,’ said Hobby Noble,
‘Man _tha_t thou wilt neu_er_ bee.’

32
But then he had Fflanders files two or three,
And hee fyled downe _tha_t iron dore,
And tooke Iohn out of the New Castle,
And sayd, Looke thou neu_er_ come heere more!

33
When he had him fforth of the New Castle,
‘Away w_i_th me, Iohn, thou shalt ryde:’
But eu_er_ alas! itt cold not bee;
For Iohn cold neither sitt nor stryde.

34
But then he had sheets two or three,
And bound Iohns boults fast to his ffeete,
And sett him on a well good steede,
Himselfe on another by him seete.

35
Then Hobby Noble smiled and loug[h]e,
And spoke these worde in mickle pryde:
Thou sitts soe finely on thy geldinge
_Tha_t, Iohn, thou rydes like a bryde.

36
And when they came thorrow Howbrame towne,
Iohns horsse there stumbled at a stone;
‘Out and alas!’ cryed Much, the Miller,
‘Iohn, thou’le make vs all be tane.’

37
‘But fye vpon thee!’ saies Hobby Noble,
‘Much, the Millar, fye on thee!
I know full well,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Man _tha_t thou wilt neu_er_ bee.’

38
And when the came into Howbrame wood,
He had Fflanders files two or three
To file Iohns bolts beside his ffeete,
_Tha_t hee might ryde more easilye.

39
Sayes, ‘Iohn, now leape ou_er_ a steede!’
And Iohn then hee lope ou_er_ fiue:
‘I know well,’ sayes Hobby Noble,
‘Iohn, thy ffellow is not aliue.’

40
Then he brought him home to Mangerton;
The lo_rd_ then he was att his meate;
But when Iohn o the Side he there did see,
For faine hee cold noe more eate.

41
He sayes, Blest be thou, Hobby Noble,
_Tha_t euer thou wast man borne!
Thou hast feitched vs home good Iohn oth Side,
_Tha_t was now cleane ffrom vs gone.

B

#a.# Caw’s Poetical Museum, 1784, p. 145; “from an old manuscript
copy.” #b.# Campbell’s Albyn’s Anthology, II, 28; “taken down from
the recitation of Mr Thomas Shortreed,” of Jedburgh, “who learnt it
from his father.”

1
‘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 prisner tane.’
With my fa ding diddle, la la dow diddle.

2
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 tears in spaits fa fast frae her eie.

3
Then up and bespake the lord Mangerton:
‘What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?’
‘Bad news, bad news, my lord Mangerton;
Mitchel is killd, and tane they hae my son Johnie.’

4
‘Neer fear, sister Downie,’ quo Mangerton;
‘I hae yokes of oxen four and twentie,
My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’weel filld,
And I’ll part wi them a’ere Johnie shall die.

5
‘Three men I’ll take to set him free,
Weel harnessd a’wi best o steel;
The English rogues may hear, and drie
The weight o their braid swords to feel.

6
‘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 banishd thee, to me.’

7
Now Hobie was an English man,
In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born;
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banishd him neer to return.

8
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.

9
‘Your armour gude ye maunna shaw,
Nor ance appear like men o weir;
As country lads be all arrayd,
Wi branks and brecham on ilk mare.’

10
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.

11
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 naggs upo ilk side,
To climb up the wa o Newcastle town.

12
But when they cam to Newcastle town,
And were alighted at the wa,
They fand their tree three ells oer laigh,
They fand their stick baith short and sma.

13
Then up and spake the Laird’s ain Jock,
‘There’s naething for’t, the gates we maun force;’
But when they cam the gates unto,
A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.

14
His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung,
Wi hand or foot he neer playd paw;
His life and his keys at anes they hae tane,
And cast his body ahind the wa.

15
Now soon they reach Newcastle jail,
And to the prisner thus they call:
‘Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o the Side?
Or is thou wearied o thy thrall?’

16
Jock answers thus, wi dolefu tone:
Aft, aft I wake, I seldom sleip;
But wha’s this kens my name sae weel,
And thus to hear my waes do[es] seik?

17
Then up and spake the good Laird’s Jock,
‘Neer fear ye now, my billie,’ quo he;
‘For here’s the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat,
And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free.’

18
‘Oh, had thy tongue, and speak nae mair,
And o thy tawk now let me be!
For if a’Liddisdale were here the night,
The morn’s the day that I maun die.

19
‘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 drearie.’

20
‘Fear ye no that,’ quo the Laird’s Jock;
‘A faint heart neer wan a fair ladie;
Work thou within, we’ll work without,
And I’ll be bound we set thee free.’

21
The first strong dore that they came at,
They loosed it without a key;
The next chaind dore that they cam at,
They gard it a’in flinders flee.

22
The prisner now, upo his back,
The Laird’s Jock’s gotten up fu hie;
And down the stair him, irons and a’,
Wi nae sma speed and joy brings he.

23
‘Now, Jock, I wat,’ quo Hobie Noble,
‘Part o the weight ye may lay on me;’
‘I wat weel no,’ quo the Laird’s Jock,
‘I count him lighter than a flee.’

24
Sae out at the gates they a’ are gane,
The prisner’s set on horseback hie;
And now wi speed they’ve tane the gate,
While ilk ane jokes fu wantonlie.

25
‘O Jock, sae winsomely’s ye ride,
Wi baith your feet upo ae side!
Sae weel’s ye’re harnessd, and sae trig!
In troth ye sit like ony bride.’

26
The night, tho wat, they didna mind,
But hied them on fu mirrilie,
Until they cam to Cholerford brae,
Where the water ran like mountains hie.

27
But when they came to Cholerford,
There they met with an auld man;
Says, Honest man, will the water ride?
Tell us in haste, if that ye can.

28
‘I wat weel no,’ quo the good auld man;
‘Here I hae livd this threty yeirs and three,
And I neer yet saw the Tyne sae big,
Nor rinning ance sae like a sea.’

29 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 comd we a’maun die!’

30
‘Poor faint-hearted thief!’ quo the Laird’s Jock,
‘There’ll nae man die but he that’s fie;
I’ll lead ye a’right safely through;
Lift ye the prisner on ahint me.’

31
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?’

32
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.

33
But when the land-sergeant the water saw,
‘It winna ride, my lads,’ quo he;
Then out he cries, Ye the prisner may take,
But leave the irons, I pray, to me.

34
‘I wat weel no,’ cryd the Laird’s 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.’

35
Sae now they’re away for Liddisdale,
Een as fast as they coud them hie;
The prisner’s brought to his ain fire-side,
And there o’s aims they make him free.

36
‘Now, Jock, my billie,’ quo a’the three,
‘The day was comd thou was to die;
But thou’s as weel at thy ain fire-side,
Now sitting, I think, tween thee and me.’

37
They hae gard 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.

C

Percy Papers. “The imperfect copy sent me from Keelder, as collected
from the memory of an old person by Mr William Hadley, in 1775.”

1
‘Now Liddisdale has ridden a rade,
But I wat they had a better staid at home;
For Michel of Windfield he is slain,
And my son Jonny, they have him tane.’
With my fa dow diddle, lal la dow didle

2
Now Downy’s down the water gone,
With all her cots unto her arms,
And she gave never over swift running
Untill she came to Mengertown.

3
Up spack Lord Mengertown and says,
What news, what news now, sister Downy? what news hast thou to me?
‘Bad news, bad news, Lord Mengertown,
For Michal of Windfield he is slain, and my son Jonny they have him
tain.’

4
Up speaks Lord Mengertown and says, I have four and twenty yoke of
oxen,
And four and twenty good milk-ky,
And three times as mony sheep,
And I’ll gie them a’before my son Jonny die.

5
I will tak three men unto myself;
The Laird’s Jack he shall be ane,
The Laird’s Wat another,
For, Hobbie Noble, thow must be ane.

6
. . . . . . . .
. . thy cot is of the blue;
For ever since thou cam to Liddisdale
To Mengertown thou hast been true.

7
Now Hobbie hath mounted his frienged gray,
And the Laird’s Jack his lively bey,
And Watt with the ald horse behind,
And they are away as fast as they can ride.

8
Till they are come to the Cholar foord,
And there they lighted down;
And there they cut a tree with fifty nags upo each side,
For to clim Newcastle wall.

9
And when they came there . . .
It wad not reach by ellish three;
‘There’s nothing for’t,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘But forceing o New Castle gate.’

10
And when they came there,
There was a proud porter standing,
And I wat they were obliged to wring his neck in twa.

11
Now they are come to New Castle gile:
Says they, Sleep thou, wakes thou, John o the Side?

12
Says he, Whiles I wake, but seldom sleep;
Who is there that knows my name so well?

13
Up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says,
. . . . . . . .
Here is Jack and Watt and Hobby Noble,
Come this night to set thee free.

14
Up speaks John of the Side and says,
O hold thy tongue now, billy, and of thy talk now let me be;
For if a’Liddisdale were here this night,
The morn is the day that I must die.

15
For their is fifty stone of Spanish iron
Laid on me fast wee lock and key,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

16
Then up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says,
A faint heart neer wan a fair lady;
Work thou within and we without,
And this night we’el set the free.

17
The first door that they came at
They lowsed without either lock or key,
. . . . . . . .
And the next they brock in flinders three.

18
Till now Jack has got the prisner on his back,
And down the tolbooth stair came he;
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

19
Up spack Hobby Noble and says,
O man, I think thou may lay some weight o the prisner upo me;
‘I wat weel no,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘For I do not count him as havy as ane poor flee.’

20
So now they have set him upo horse back,
And says, O now so winsomly as thou dost ride,
Just like a bride, wee beth thy feet
Unto a side.

21
Now they are away wee him as fast as they can heye,
Till they are come to the Cholar foord brae head;
And they met an ald man,
And says, Will the water ride?

22
‘I wat well no,’ says the ald man,
‘For I have lived here this thirty years and three,
. . . . . . . .
And I think I never saw Tyne running so like a sea.’

23
Up speaks the Laird’s Watt and says—
The greatest coward of the companie—
. . . . . . . .
‘Now, dear billies, the day is come that we must a’die.’

24
Up speaks the Laird’s Jack and says, Poor cowardly thief,
They will never one die but him that’s fee;
. . . . . . . .
Set the prisner on behind me.

25
So they have tain the water by ane and two,
Till they have got safe swumd through.

26
Be they wan safe a’through,
There were twenty men pursueing them from New Castle town.

27
Up speaks the land-sergant and says,
If you be gone with the rog, cast me my irons.

28
‘I wat weel no,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘For I will keep them to shew my good grey mere;
. . . . . . . .
For I am sure she has bought them dear.’

29
‘Good sooth,’ says the Laird’s Jack,
‘The worst perel is now past.’

30
So now they have set him upo hoseback,
And away as fast as they could hye,
Till they brought him into Liddisdale,
And now they have set him down at his own fireside.

31
And says, now John,
The day was come that thou was to die,
But thou is full as weel sitting at thy own fireside.
. . . . . . . .

32
And now they are falln to drink,
And they drank a whole week one day after another,
And if they be not given over,
They are all drinking on yet.

D

Percy Papers. “These are scraps of the old song repeated to me by Mr
Leadbeater, from the neighborhood of Hexham, 1774.”

1
Liddisdaill has ridden a raid,
But they had better ha staid at hame;
For Michael a Wingfield he is slain,
And Jock o the Side they hae taen.

2
Dinah’s down the water gane,
Wi a’her coats untill her knes,
. . . . . . . .
To Mangerton came she.

3
. . . . . . . . .
How now? how now? What’s your will wi me?
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

4
To the New Castle h[e] is gane.

5
They have cuttin their yad’s tailes,
They’ve cut them a little abune the hough,
And they nevir gave oer s....d running
Till they came to Hathery Haugh.

6
And when they came to Chollerton ford
Tyne was mair running like a sea.
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

7
And when they came to Swinburne wood,
Quickly they ha fellen a tree;
Twenty snags on either side,
And on the top it had lang three.

8
‘My mare is young, she wul na swim,’
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

9
. . . . . . .
‘Now Mudge the Miller, fie on thee!
Tak thou mine, and I’ll tak thine,
And the deel hang down thy yad and thee.’

* * * * *

#A.#

1^1. whifeild: _the first_ i _may be_ t: _Furnivall._

6^3, 7^1, 8^1. 5.

7^3. 5000.

13^1, 13^2. 3.

13^4. 3: _Percy queries_, tree?

15^4. 2 and 2.

17^4. 30: 3.

18^1. 4.

19^2. by. _MS. eaten through by ink: Furnivall._

20^3. knight _for_ night.

24^1. 9: or: 10:.

24^2. 10: or: 11:. _The first and the second line might be
transposed to the advantage of the rhyme._

25^1. hobynoble.

27^4. infaith.

28^3. 4.

28^4. 2.

29^1. for 4.

29^2. 5.

29^4. 12.

32^1, 34^1, 38^2. 2 or 3.

39^2. 5.

#B. a.#

13^2. wi’maun.

16^4. do seik (==dos seik).

34^3. grey mare, _but_ bay _in 10^3. #b# has bay in both._

#b.#

_Burden after the first and the fourth line_:
Wi my fa ding diddle, lal low dow diddle.

1^2. hae staid.

1^3, 3^4. Michael.

1^4. And Jock o the Side.

2^1. Lady Downie has.

2^4. the _wanting_.

3^1. and spoke our gude auld lord.

3^4. and they hae taen.

4^2. ousen eighty and three.

5^1. I’ll send.

5^2. A’harneist wi the.

5^3. louns _for_ rogues.

6, 7 _wanting._

8^1. then _for_ them.

8^2. maun be.

8^3. ye mauna.

8^4. the road.

9^1. you.

9^2. yet _for_ ance.

9^4. on each.

10^1. a’ _wanting_: the wrang way shod.

10^3. Jock’s on his.

11^3. nogs on each.

13^3. the gate untill.

14^1. twa the Armstrangs wrang.

14^2. Wi fute or hand.

14^4. cast the.

15^4. Art thou weary.

16^4. to mese my waes does.

17^1. out and.

17^2. Now fear ye na.

17^3. here are.

18^1. Now haud thy tongue, my gude Laird’s Jock.

18^2. For ever alas this canna be.

18^3. was.

19^4. dark and.

20^4. be sworn we’ll.

21^4. a’ to.

22^2. Jock has.

23 _wanting._

28^2. I hae lived here threty.

29^1. out and.

29^4. come.

30^1. cried the Laird’s ane Jock.

30^2. but him.

30^3. I’ll guide thee.

31^1. Wi that: they hae.

31^3. quo the.

32^1. the other brae.

32^4. lads baith stout.

33^2. says he.

33^3. Then cried aloud, The prisoner take.

33^4. the fetters.

34^1. quo the.

34^3. bay mare.

34^4. She has: right dear.

35^1. are onto.

36^2. is comd.

36^3. ingle side.

36^4. twixt thee.

37 _wanting._

_Scott changes Campbell’s readings for Caw’s now and then, and Caw’s
for his own._

#C.#

_Written continuously after the first stanza, and mostly without
punctuation. The end of a stanza is indicated after 3 by the
insertion of the burden. Some one, probably Percy, has attempted
to show the proper separation by marks between the lines. #B#
has been taken as a guide for the divisions here adopted._

9^1. And when they came there _ends_ 8^4 _in the MS_.

11^2. Jnº _for_ John.

14^2. And of thy talk, etc., _is a line by itself in the MS._

16^3. And me.

19^2. _Two lines in the MS._

20^2. _Perhaps_ dos’.

20^3. Unto ℰ.

21^{2,3}, 24, 28. The lines are run together.

31. And says now John the day _continues_ 30^4 _in the MS._

#D.#

5^3. s....d, _illegible_.

7^1. _Perhaps_ Swinburin.

9^3. gang _has been changed to_ hang, _or_ hang _to_ gang:
_neither is quite intelligible_.

1, 2, 3 _are in the MS._ 2, 3, 1.

188

ARCHIE O CAWFIELD

#A.# ‘Archie of the Cawfield,’ communicated to Percy by Miss Fisher of
Carlisle, 1780.

#B. a.# ‘Archie of Cafield,’[323] Glenriddell MSS, XI, 14, 1791;
Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1802, I, 177. #b.# ‘Archie of Ca’field,’ Scott’s
Minstrelsy, 1833, II, 116.

#C.# ‘The Three Brothers,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland,
I, 111.

#D.# ‘Billie Archie,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 467, communicated by
Buchan, and by him derived from James Nicol of Strichen;
Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 335.

#E.# Macmath MS., p. 76, fragments.

#F.# Communicated by Mr J. M. Watson, of Clark’s Island, Plymouth
Harbor, Massachusetts.

#B a# was printed by Scott in the first edition of his Minstrelsy, with the omission of stanzas 11, 13, 15^{3–6} (15^{3,4}, 16^{1,2}, of the MS.), 17^{3,4} (18^{1,2} of the MS.), 27, 28, and with many editorial improvements, besides Scotticising of the spelling. Of #B b#, the form in which the ballad appears in the later edition of the Minstrelsy, the editor says that he has been enabled to add several stanzas obtained from recitation, of which he remarks that, “as they contrast the brutal indifference of the elder brother with the zeal and spirit of his associates, they add considerably to the dramatic effect of the whole.” The new stanzas are ten, and partly displace some of #a#. None of the omitted stanzas are restored, and the other changes previously made are retained, except of course where new stanzas have been introduced.

This ballad is in all the salient features a repetition of ‘Jock o the Side,’ Halls playing the parts of Armstrongs. The Halls are several times complained of for reif and away-taking of ky, oxen, etc., in 1579. There is a Jok Hall of the Sykis, Jok Hall, called Paitti’s Jok, a Jokie Hall in the Clintis, and the name Archie Hall occurs, which is, to be sure, a matter of very slight consequence. See the Register of the Privy Council of Scotland, III, 236 f., 354 f. Cafield is about a mile west of Langholm, in Wauchopedale. The Armstrongs had spread into Wauchopedale in the sixteenth century, and Jock Armstrong of the Caffeild appears in the Registers of the Privy Council, III, 43, 85, 133, 535. I have not found Halls of Caffeild, and hope not to do them injustice by holding that some friend or member of that sept has substituted their name, for the glory of the family.[324]

From a passage in A History of Dumfries, by William Bennet, in The Dumfries Monthly Magazine, III, 9 f., July, 1826 (kindly brought to my attention by Mr Macmath), there appears to have been a version of this ballad in which the Johnstones played the part of the Halls, or Armstrongs; but against their enemies the Maxwells, not against the public authority. A gentleman of Dumfries informed Bennet that he had “often, in early life, listened to an interesting ballad, sung by an old female chronicle of the town, which was founded upon the following circumstance. In some fray between the Maxwells and Johnstones, the former had taken the chief of the latter prisoner, and shut him up in the jail of Dumfries, in Lochmaben gate; for in Dumfries they possessed almost the same power as in the Stewartry of Annandale, Crichton of Sanquhar, who was then hereditary sheriff of Nithsdale, being their retainer. In a dark night shortly afterwards, a trusty band of the Johnstones marched secretly into Dumfries, and, surprising the jail-keepers, bore off their chief, manacled as he then was, and, placing him behind one of their troopers, galloped off towards the head of Locher, there to regain the Tinwald side and strike into the mountains of Moffat before their enemies should have leisure to start in pursuit. A band of the Maxwells, happening to be in town, and instantly receiving the alarm, started in pursuit of the fugitives, and overtook them about the dawn of morning, just as they had suddenly halted upon the banks of the Locher, and seemed to hesitate about risking its passage; for the stream was much swollen by a heavy rain which had lately fallen, and seemed to threaten destruction to any who should dare to enter it. On seeing the Maxwells, however, and reflecting upon the comparative smallness of their own party, they plunged in, and, by dextrous management, reached in safety the opposite bank at the moment their pursuers drew up on the brink of that which they had left. The Johnstones had now the decided advantage, for, had their enemies ventured to cross, they could, while struggling against the current, have been easily destroyed. The bloodthirsty warriors raged and shook their weapons at each other across the stream; but the flood rolled on as if in mockery of their threatenings, and the one party at length galloped off in triumph, while the other was compelled to return in disgrace.”

There are three Halls in #A#, #B#, #C#, brothers, of whom Archie is a prisoner, condemned to die. The actors in #D# are not said to be brothers or Halls; the prisoner is Archie, as before. In #A#, Jock the laird and Dickie effect the rescue, assisted by Jocky Ha, a cousin. Dick is the leader, Jocky Ha subordinate, and Jock the laird is the despondent and repining personage, corresponding to Much in Jock o the Side, #A#, #D#, and to the Laird’s Wat, #B#, #C#. In #B#, Dick is the only brother named; he and Jokie Hall from Teviotdale effect the rescue; Jokie Hall is prominent, and Dickie has the second place; Archie the prisoner is faint-hearted, but, properly speaking, that part is omitted. Jokie Hall represents Hobie Noble, who is the leader in #A# of the other ballad, as Jokie is here in #B#, and also #C#; whereas Dick is the leader in #A#, #D# of the ballad before us, and represents the Laird’s Jock, who is principal in #B#, #C# of the other. In #B#, #C#, only two are concerned in breaking the jail. In #C#, Dick loses heart, or has the place of Much; in #D#, Caff o Lin.

In #A# 38, Jock the laird says his colt will drown him if he attempts to cross the river; so Dick in #B# 23 (for it can be no other, though Dick is not named) and in #C# 24, and Caff o Lin in #D# 14. They have not two attacks of panic, as Much has in ‘Jock o the Side,’ #A#, with such excellent effect in bringing out Hobie Noble’s steadiness. To make up for this, however, the laird has an unheroic qualm after all is well over, in #A# 44: the dearsome night has cost him Cawfield! It is a fine-spirited answer that Dick makes: ‘Light o thy lands! we should not have been three brothers.’ In one of the stanzas which Scott added in #B b#, “coarse Ca’field,” that is, the laird again, is addressed (inconsecutively, as the verses stand) with the like reproach: ‘Wad ye even your lands to your born billy!’

Archie is prisoner at Dumfries in #A#, #B#, at Annan in #C#; in #D# no place is mentioned. The route followed in #A# is Barnglish,[325] only two or three miles westward, where the horseshoes are turned, 8; Bonshaw wood, where they take counsel, 10; over the Annan at Hoddam, 12, to Dumfries, 13; back by Bonshaw Shield, where they again take counsel, 29; over the Annan at Annan Holm (Annan Bank?), opposite Wamphray (where the Johnstones would be friendly), 31, to Cafield. Bonshaw Shield would have to be somewhere between Dumfries and Annan Water; it seems to be an erroneous repetition of the Bonshaw on the left of the Annan.

The route in #B# is The Murraywhat, where shoes are turned, 6; Dumfries, 8; back by Lochmaben, 17; The Murraywhat, where they file off the shackles, 18; to and across the Annan. Here we may ask why the shoes are not changed earlier; for The Murraywhat is on the west side of the Annan. The route in #C# is not described; there is no reason, if they start from Cafield (see 23), why they should cross the Annan, the town being on the eastern side. All difficulties are escaped in #D# by giving no names.

The New England copy, #F#, naturally enough, names no places. There are three brothers, as in #A#, #B#, #C#, and Dickie is the leader. The prisoner, here called Archer, gives up hope when he comes to the river; his horse is lame and cannot swim; but horses are shifted, and he gets over. His spirits are again dashed when he sees the sheriff in pursuit.

#A#, 6^2, 14^2, 16^4, ‘for leugh o Liddesdale cracked he,’ is explained by #B a#, 10^2, ‘fra the laigh of Tiviotdale was he;’ he bragged for lower Liddesdale, was from lower Liddesdale; it seems to be a sort of εὔχετο εἶναι. #B b# reads (that is, Scott corrects), ‘The luve of Teviotdale was he.’ #B a#, 16^4, ‘And her girth was the gold-twist to be,’ is unintelligible to me, and appears to be corrupt, #b# reads, And that was her gold-twist to be, an emendation of Scott’s, gold-twist meaning “the small gilded chains drawn across the chest of a war-horse.” The three stanzas introduced in #B b# after 7 (the colloquy with the smith) are indifferent modern stuff. This and something worse are #C# 14, where Johnny Ha takes the prisoner on his back and _leads_ the mare, the refreshments in 16, 17, and the sheriff in 19–21, 28, 29.

A

Communicated to Percy by Miss Fisher of Carlisle, 1780.

1
Late in an evening forth as I went,
’Twas on the dawning of the day;
I heard two brothers make their moan,
I listend well what they did say.

2
. . . . . . .
. . . . . .
We were three born brethren,
There[s] one of us condemnd to die.

3
Then up bespake Jock the laird:
‘If I had but a hundre men,
A hundred o th best i Christenty,
I wad go on to fair Dumfries, I wad loose
my bro_the_r and set him free.’

4
So up bespak then Dicky Ha,
He was the wisest o the three:
‘A hundre men we’ll never get,
Neither for gold nor fee,
But some of them will us betray;
They’l neither fight for gold nor fee.

5
‘Had I but ten well-wight men,
Ten o the best i Christenty,
I w_a_d gae on to fair Dumfries,
I w_a_d loose my bro_th_er and set him free.

6
‘Jocky Ha, our cousin, ’s be the first man’
(For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he);
‘An ever we come till a pinch,
He’ll be as good as ony three.’

7
They mounted ten well-wight men,
Ten o the best i Christenty;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

8
There was horsing and horsing of haste,
And cracking o whips out oer the lee,
Till they came to fair Barngliss,
And they ca’d the smith right quietly.

9
He has shod them a’ their horse,
He’s shod them siccer and honestly,
And he as turnd the cawkers backwards oer,
Where foremost they were wont to be.

10
And there was horsing, horsing of haste,
And cracking of whips out oer the lee,
Until they came to the Bonshaw wood,
Where they held their council privately.

11
Some says, We’ll gang the Annan road,
It is the better road, s_ai_d they;
Up bespak then Dicky Ha,
The wisest of that company.

12
‘Annan road’s a publick road,
It’s no the road that makes for me;
But we will through at Hoddam ford,
It is the better road,’ said he.

13
And there was horsing, horsing o haste,
And cracking of whips out oer the lea,
Until they came to fair Dumfries,
And it was newly strucken three.

14
Up bespake then Jocky Ha,
For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he:
‘I have a mare, they ca her Meg,
She is the best i Christenty;
An ever we come till a pinch,
She’ll bring awa both thee and me.’

15
‘But five we’ll leave to had our horse,
And five will watch, guard for to be;
Who is the man,’ said Dicky then,
‘To the prison-door will go with me?’

16
Up bespak then Jocky Ha,
For leugh o Liddesdale cracked he:
‘I am the man,’ said Jocky than,
‘To the prison-door I’ll go with thee.’

17
They are up the jail-stair,
They stepped it right soberly,
Until they came to the jail-door;
They ca’d the prisoner quietly.

18
‘O sleeps thou, wakest thou, Archie, my billy?
O sleeps thou, wakes thou, dear billy?’
‘Sometimes I sleep, sometimes I wake;
But who’s that knows my name so well?’ [said he.]
‘I am thy brother Dicky,’ he says;
‘This night I’m come to borrow thee.’

19
But up bespake the prisoner then,
And O but he spake woefully!
‘Today has been a justice-court,
. . . . . . .
And a’ Liddesdale were here the night,
The morn’s the day at I’se to die.’

20
‘What is thy crime, Archie, my billy?
What is the crime they lay to thee?’
‘I brake a spear i the warden’s breast,
For saving my master’s land,’ said he.

21
‘If that be a’ the crime they lay to thee, Archie, my billy,
If that be the crime they lay to thee,
Work thou within, and me without,
And thro good strength I’ll borrow thee.’

22
‘I cannot work, billy,’ he says,
‘I cannot work, billy, with thee,
For fifteen stone of Spanish iron
Lyes fast to me with lock and key.’

23
When Dicky he heard that,
‘Away, thou crabby chiel!’ cried he;
He’s taen the door aye with his foot,
And fast he followd it with his knee.
Till a’ the bolts the door hung on,
O th’ prison-floor he made them flee.

24
‘Thou’s welcome, welcome, Archy, my billy,
Thou’s aye right dear welcome to me;
There shall be straiks this day,’ he said,
‘This day or thou be taen from me.’

25
He’s got the prisoner on o his back,
He’s gotten him irons and aw,
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

26
Up bespake then Jocky Ha,
‘Let some o th’ prisoner lean on me;’
‘The diel o there,’ quo Dicky than,
‘He’s no the wightdom of a flea.’

27
They are on o that gray mare,
And they are on o her aw three,
And they linked the irons about her neck,
And galloped the street right wantonly.

28
‘To horse, to horse,’ then, ‘all,’ he says,
‘Horse ye with all the might ye may,
For the jailor he will waken next;
And the prisoners had a’ wan away.’

29
There was horsing, horsing of haste,
And cracking o whips out oer the lea,
Until they came to the Bonshaw Shield;
There they held their council privately.

30
Some says, ‘We’ll gang the Annan road;
It is the better road,’ said they;
But up bespak than Dicky Ha,
The wisest of that company:

31
‘Annan road’s a publick road,
It’s not the road that makes for me;
But we will through at Annan Holme,
It is the better road,’ said he;
‘An we were in at Wamfrey Gate,
The Johnstones they will a’ help me.’

32
But Dicky lookd oer his left shoulder,
I wait a wiley look gave he;
He spied the leiutenant coming,
And a hundre men of his company.

33
‘So horse ye, horse ye, lads!’ he said,
‘O horse ye, sure and siccerly!
For yonder is the lieuten_an_t,
With a hundred men of his company.’

34
There was horsing, horsing of haste,
And cracking o whips out oer the lea,
Until they came to Annan Holme,
And it was running like a sea.

35
But up bespake the lieutenant,
Until a bonny lad said he,
‘Who is the man,’ said the leiuten_an_t,
‘Rides foremost of yon company?’

36
Then up bespake the bonny lad,
Until the lieuten_an_t said he,
‘Some men do ca him Dicky Ha,
Rides foremost of yon company.’

37
‘O haste ye, haste ye!’ said the leiuten_an_t,
‘Pursue with a’ the might ye may!
For the man had needs to be well saint
That comes thro the hands o Dicky Ha.’

38
But up bespak Jock the laird,
‘This has been a dearsome night to me;
I’ve a colt of four years old,
I wait he wannelld like the wind;
If ever he come to the deep,
He will plump down, leave me behind.’

39
‘Wae light o thee and thy horse baith, Jock,
And even so thy horse and thee!
Take thou mine, and I’ll take thine,
Foul fa the warst horse i th’ company!
I’ll cast the prisoner me behind;
There’ll no man die but him that’s fee.’

40
There they’ve a’taen the flood,
And they have taen it hastily;
Dicky was the hindmost took the flood,
And foremost on the land stood he.

41
Dicky’s turnd his horse about,
And he has turnd it hastilly:
‘Come through, come thro, my lieuten_an_t,
Come thro this day, and drink wi me,
And thy dinner’s be dressd in Annan Holme,
It sall not cost thee one penny.’

42
‘I think some witch has bore the, Dicky,
Or some devil in hell been thy daddy;
I w_ou_d not swum that wan water double-horsed,
For a’ the gold in Christenty.

43
‘But throw me thro my irons, Dicky,
I wait they cost me full dear;’
‘O devil be there,’ quo Jocky Hall,
‘They’l be good shoon to my gray mare.’

44
O up bespoke then Jock the laird,
‘This has been a dearsome night to me;
For yesternight the Cawfield was my ain,
Landsman again I neer sall be.’

45
‘Now wae light o thee and thy lands baith, Jock,
And even so baith the land and thee!
For gear will come and gear will gang,
But three brothers again we never were to be.’

B

#a.# Glenriddell MSS, XI, 14, 1791, “an old West Border ballad.”
#b.# Scott’s Minstrelsy, 1833, II, 116.

1
As I was walking mine alane,
It was by the dawning o the day,
I heard twa brothers make their maine,
And I listned well what they did say.

2
The eldest to the youngest said,
‘O dear brother, how can this be!
There was three brethren of us born,
And one of us is condemnd to die.’

3
‘O chuse ye out a hundred men,
A hundred men in Christ[e]ndie,
And we’ll away to Dumfries town,
And set our billie Archie free.’

4
‘A hundred men you cannot get,
Nor yet sixteen in Christendie;
For some of them will us betray,
And other some will work for fee.

5
‘But chuse ye out eleven men,
And we ourselves thirteen will be,
And we’ill away to Dumfries town,
And borrow bony billie Archie.’

6
There was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching upon the lee,
Untill they came to the Murraywhat,
And they lighted a’ right speedylie.

7
‘A smith, a smith!’ Dickie he crys,
‘A smith, a smith, right speedily,
To turn back the cakers of our horses feet!
For it is forward we woud be.’

8
There was a horsing, horsing in haste,
There was marching on the lee,
Untill they came to Dumfries port,
And there they lighted right manfulie.

9
‘Thereś six of us will hold the horse,
And other five watchmen will be;
But who is the man among you a’
Will go to the Tolbooth door wi me?’

10
O up then spake Jokie Hall
(Fra the laigh of Tiviotdale was he),
‘If it should cost my life this very night,
I’ll ga to the Tollbooth door wi thee.’

11
‘O sleepst thou, wakest thow, Archie laddie?
O sleepst thou, wakest thow, dear billie?’
‘I sleep but saft, I waken oft,
For the morn’s the day that I man die.’

12
‘Be o good cheer now, Archie lad,
Be o good cheer now, dear billie;
Work thow within and I without,
And the morn thou’s dine at Cafield wi me.’

13
‘O work, O work, Archie?’ he cries,
‘O work, O work? ther’s na working for me;
For ther’s fifteen stane o Spanish iron,
And it lys fow sair on my body.’

14
O Jokie Hall stept to the door,
And he bended it back upon his knee,
And he made the bolts that the door hang on
Jump to the wa right wantonlie.

15
He took the prisoner on his back,
And down the Tollbooth stairs came he;
Out then spak Dickie and said,
Let some o the weight fa on me;
‘O shame a ma!’ co Jokie Ha,
‘For he’s no the weight of a poor flee.’

16
The gray mare stands at the door,
And I wat neer a foot stirt she,
Till they laid the links out oer her neck,
And her girth was the gold-twist to be.

17
And they came down thro Dumfries town,
And O but they came bonily!
Untill they came to Lochmaben port,
And they leugh a’ the night manfulie.

18
There was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching on the lee,
Untill they came to the Murraywhat,
And they lighted a’ right speedilie.

19
‘A smith, a smith!’ Dickie he cries,
‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie,
To file off the shakles fra my dear brother!
For it is forward we wad be.’

20
They had not filtt a shakle of iron,
A shakle of iron but barely three,
Till out then spake young Simon brave,
‘Ye do na see what I do see.

21
‘Lo yonder comes Liewtenant Gordon,
And a hundred men in his company:’
‘O wo is me!’ then Archie cries,
‘For I’m the prisoner, and I must die.’

22
O there was horsing, horsing in haste,
And there was marching upon the lee,
Untill they came to Annan side,
And it was flowing like the sea.

23
‘I have a colt, and he’s four years old,
And he can amble like the wind,
But when he comes to the belly deep,
He lays himself down on the ground.’

24
‘But I have a mare, and they call her Meg.
And she’s the best in Christendie;
Set ye the prisoner me behind;
Ther’ll na man die but he that’s fae!’

25
Now they did swim that wan water,
And O but they swam bonilie!
Untill they came to the other side,
And they wrang their cloathes right drunk[i]lie.

26
‘Come through, come through, Lieutenant Gordon!
Come through, and drink some wine wi me!
For ther’s a ale-house neer hard by,
And it shall not cost thee one penny.’

27
‘Throw me my irons, Dickie!’ he cries,
‘For I wat they cost me right dear;’
‘O shame a ma!’ cries Jokie Ha,
‘For they’ll be good shoon to my gray mare.’

28
‘Surely thy minnie has been some witch,
Or thy dad some warlock has been;
Else thow had never attempted such,
Or to the bottom thow had gone.

29
‘Throw me my irons, Dickie!’ he cries,
‘For I wot they cost me dear enough;’
‘O shame a ma!’ cries Jokie Ha,
‘They’ll be good shakles to my plough.’

30
‘Come through, come through, Liewtenant Gordon!
Come throw, and drink some wine wi me!
For yesterday I was your prisoner,
But now the night I am set free.’

C

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 111.

1
As I walked on a pleasant green—
’Twas on the first morning of May—
I heard twa brothers make their moan,
And hearkend well what they did say.

2
The first he gave a grievous sigh,
And said, Alas, and wae is me!
We hae a brother condemned to death,
And the very morn must hanged be.

3
Then out it speaks him Little Dick,
I wat a gude fellow was he:
‘Had I three men unto mysell,
Well borrowed shoud Bell Archie be.’

4
Out it speaks him Johnny Ha,
A better fellow by far was he:
‘Ye shall hae six men and yoursell,
And me to bear you companie.

5
‘Twa for keepers o the guard,
See that to keep it sickerlie,
And twa to come, and twa to gang,
And twa to speak wi Bell Archie.

6
‘But we winna gang like men o weir,
Nor yet will we like cavalliers;
But we will gang like corn-buyers,
And we’ll put brechens on our mares.’

7
Then they are to the jail-house doors,
And they hae tirled at the pin:
‘Ye sleep ye, wake ye, Bell Archie?
Quickly rise, lat us come in.’

8
‘I sleep not aft, I lie not saft;
Wha’s there that knocks and kens my name?’
‘It is your brothers Dick and John;
Ye’ll open the door, lat us come in.’

9
‘Awa, awa, my brethren dear,
And ye’ll had far awa frae me;
If ye be found at jail-house door,
I fear like dogs they’ll gar ye die.’

10
‘Ohon, alas! my brother dear,
Is this the hearkning ye gie to me?
If ye’ll work therein as we thereout,
Well borrowd shoud your body be.’

11
‘How can I work therein, therein,
Or yet how can I work thereout,
When fifty tons o Spanish iron
Are my fair body round about?’

12
He put his fingers to the lock,
I wat he handled them sickerlie,
And doors of deal, and bands of steel,
He gart them all in flinders flee.