"And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie,
Against the truce of Border tide?
And forgotten that the bauld 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 bauld Buccleuch
Can back a steed, or shake a spear?

"O 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 low,
And sloken 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 bauld,
I trow they were of his ain name,
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, called

The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.

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50

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60

He has called him forty Marchmen bauld,

Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch; With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, And gleuves of green, and feathers blue.

There were five and five, before them a',
Wi' hunting-horns and bugles bright;
And five and five came 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;

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70

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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 sould it be but fause Sakelde?

80

"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 bauld Buccleuch."

"Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads,

Wi' a' your ladders, lang and hie?"

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90

"We gang to herry a corbie's nest,

That wons not far frae Woodhouselee."

"Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?"

Quo' fause Sakelde;

95

Now Dickie of Dryhope led that band,
And the never a word o' lear had he.

"Why trespass ye on the English side?
Row-footed outlaws, stand!" 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,

100

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, 105
The wind was rising loud and hie;

And there the laird gar'd leave our steeds,
For fear that they should stamp and nie,,,

And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,

The wind began full loud to blaw; But 't was wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castle wa'.

1

We crept on knees and held our breath,
Till we placed the ladders against the wa';

110

And sae ready was Buccleuch himsel'

To mount the first, before us a'.

He has ta'en the watchman by the throat,

He flung him down upon the lead; "Had there not been peace between our lands, Upon the other side thou hadst gaed!

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120

"Now sound out, trumpets!" quo' Buccleuch ; "Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!" Then loud the warden's trumpet blew

O whae dare meddle wi' me?

Then speedilie to wark we gaed,

And raised the slogan ane and a', And cut a hole through a sheet of lead, And so we wan to the castle ha'.

125

They thought King James and a' his men
Had won the house wi' bow and spear;

130

It was but twenty Scots and ten,

That put a thousand in sic a stear!

Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers,

We gar'd the bars bang merrilie, Until we cam to the inner prison,

Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie.

And when we cam to the lower prison, Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie"O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie,

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Upon the morn that thou 's to die?"

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"O I sleep saft and I wake aft;

It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae me! Gi'e my service back to my wife and bairns, And a' gude fellows that spier for me."

Then Red Rowan has hent him up,
The starkest man in Teviotdale-

Abide, abide, now, Red Rowan,

Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.

Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!
My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he

cried;

"I'll pay you for my lodging maill,

When first we meet on the Border side."

Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang;
At every stride Red Rowan made,

I wot the Kinmont's airns played clang!

"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan
I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode.

“And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie,
"I've pricked a horse out o'er the furs;
But since the day I backed a steed,
I never wore sic cumbrous spurs!"