His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung,

Wi' hand or foot he ne'er play'd paw; His life and his keys at ance they hae ta'en, And cast his body ahint the wa'.

Now soon they reach Newcastle jail,
And to the pris'ner thus they call:
Sleips 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 sleip;
But wha's this kens my name sae weel,
And thus to hear my waes does seik ?

Then up and spake the good laird's Jock, Ne'er 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.

O! haud 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.

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.

Fear ye no that, quo' the laird's Jock,

A faint heart ne'er wan a fair ladie; Work thou within, we'll 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 chain'd 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' hie; And down the stair, him irons and a', Wi' nae sma speed and joy brings he.

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.

Sae out at the gates they a' are gane,-
The pris'ner's set on horseback hie;
And now wi' speed they've ta'en the gate,
While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonlie.-

Oh! Jock, sae winsomelie '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.

The night, tho' wet, they didna mind,
But hied them on fu' merrilie,

Until they came to Cholerford brae,

Where the water ran like mountains hie.

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.

I wat weel no, quo' the good old man,-
Here I hae liv'd this thretty yeirs and three ;

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

Nor rinning ance sae like a sea.

Then up and spake the laird's saft Wat,
The greatest coward in the companie,
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 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' ha'e ta'en,

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?

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 wat weel no, cry'd 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.

Sae now they're away for Liddisdale,
E'en as fast as they cou'd them hie;
The pris'ner's brought to his ain fire-side,
And there o' his irons they make him free.

Now Jock, my billie, quo' a' the three,
The day was com'd thou wast 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.

THE END.

Printed by Walker & Greig,
Edinburgh.