He has ta'en the laird's jack aff his back,
The twa-handed sword that hang by his thigh;
He has ta'en the steel-cap aff his head-
Johnie, I'll tell my master I met wi' thee.

When Johnie waken'd out o' his dream,
I wat a dreirie man was he:

And is thou gane? now Dickie, than,
The shame gae in thy companie.—

And is thou gane? now Dickie, than,
The shame gae in thy companie;
For, if I should live this hundred years,
I ne'er shall fight wi' a fool after thee.

Then Dickie's come hame to lord and master,

E'en as fast as he may drie.

Now Dickie, I'll neither eat nor drink,
Till hie hanged thou shalt be.

The shame speed the liars, my Lord, quo' Dickie,
That was no the promise ye made to me;
For I'd ne'er gane to Liddisdale to steal,
Till I had got my leave at thee.

But what gar'd thou steal the laird's Jock's horse? And, limmer, what gar'd thou steal him? quo'

he;

For lang might thou in Cumberland dwelt,

Ere the laird's Jock had stawn frae thee.

Indeed, I wat ye lied, my lord,

And e'en sae loud as I hear ye lie,

I wan bim frae his man, fair Johnie Armstrong, Hand for hand on Cannobie-lee.

There's the jack was on his back,

The twa-handed sword that hang laigh by his thigh;

And there's the steel cap was on his head;
I hae a' these takens to let thee see.-

If that be true thou to me tells,

I trow thou darena tell a lie,

I'll gi'e thee twenty punds for the good horse,
Weil tell'd in thy cloak lap shall be.

And I'll gi'e thee ane o' my best milk-kye
To maintain thy wife and children three;
And that may be as good, I think,

As ony twa o' thine might be.

The shame speed the liars, my lord, quo' Dickie,
Trow ye aye to make a fool o' me;

I'll either hac thirty punds for the good horse,
Or he's gae to Mortan fair wi' me.

He's gi'en him thirty punds for the good horse,
All in goud and good monie ;

He has given him ane o' his best milk-kye,
To maintain his wife and children three.

Then Dickie came down through Carlisle town, E'en as fast as he might drie;

The first o' men that he met with

Was my lord's brother, Bayliff Glozenburrie.

Weil may ye be, my good Ralph Scroope!
Welcome, my brother's fool! quo' he:
Where did thou get fair Johnie Armstrong's horse?
Where did I get him, but steal him? quo' he.

But wilt thou sell me fair Johnie Armstrong's horse?

And, billie, wilt thou sell him to me? quo' he : Ay, and tell me the monie on my cloak lap, For there's no ae farden I'll trust thee.

I'll gi'e thee fifteen punds for the good horse,
Weil tell'd on thy cloak lap shall be ;
And I'll gi'e thee ane o' my best milk-kye,
To maintain thy wife and children three.

The shame speed the liars, my lord, quo' Dickie,
Trow ye aye to mak a fool o' me? quo' he;
I'll either hae thirty punds for the good horse,
Or he's gae to Mortan fair wi' me.

He's gi'en him thirty punds for the good horse,
All in gowd and good monie ;

He has gi'en him ane o' his best milk-kye,
To maintain his wife and children three.

Then Dickie lap a loup fu' hie,

And I wat a loud laugh laughed he;

I wish the neck o' the third horse were broken, For I hae a better o' my ain, if better can be.

Then Dickie's com'd hame to his wife again,
Judge ye how the poor fool sped,

He has gi'en her threescore English punds

For the three auld co'erlets was ta'en aff her bed.

Hae, take thee these twa as good kye,
I trow, as a' thy three might be ;
And yet here is a white-footed nagie,
I think he'll carry baith thee and me.
S

But I may nae langer in Cumberland bide,
The Armstrongs they will hang me hie.-
But Dickie's ta'en leave at lord and master;
And at Burgh under Stanmuir there dwells he

HOBIE NOBle.

ANONYMOUS,

FOUL fa' the breast first treason bred in,
That Liddisdale may safely say;
For in it there was baith meat and drink,
And corn unto our geldings gay.

We were stout-hearted men and true,
As England it did often say :
But now we may turn our backs and fly,
Since brave Noble is sold away.

Now Hobie he was an English man,
And born into Bewcastle dale;
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banish'd him to Liddisdale.

At Kershope foot the tryst was set-
Kershope of the lily lee :

And there was traitor Sim o' the Mains,
With him a private companie.

Then Hobie has graith'd his body gay,

I wat it was wi' baith good iron and steel; And he has pull'd out his fringed grey,

And there brave Noble he rade him weel.

Then Hobie is down the water gane,
E'en as fast as he may drie;

Tho' they shou'd a-bursten and broken their hearts Frae that tryst Noble he would not be.

Weel may ye be, my feiries five;

And aye, what is your wills wi' me? Then they cry'd a' wi' ae consent,

Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.

Wilt thou with us in England ride,
And thy safe warrand we will be-
If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,
Upon his back that thou shalt be.

I dare not with you into England ride;
The land-sergeant has me at feid :-
I know not what evil may betide,

For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead.

And Anton Shiel he loves not me;
For I gat twa drifts of his sheep:-
The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not;
For nae gear frae me he e'er cou'd keep.

But will ye stay till the day gae down-
Until the night come o'er the grund,
And I'll be a guide worth ony twa
That may in Liddisdale be fund.

Tho' dark the night as pick and tar
I'll lead ye o'er yon hills fu' bie;
And bring ye a' in safety back,

If you'll be true, and follow me.

He's guided them o'er moss and muir,
O'er hill and houp, and mony a down;
Till they came to the Foul-bog-shiel,

And there brave Noble he lighted down,