  O have ye na heard o’ the fause Sakelde? O have ye na heard o’ the keen Lord Scroope? How they hae ta’en bauld Kinmont Willie, On Hairibee to hang him up? Had Willie had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta’en, Wi’ eight score in his cumpanie. They band his legs beneath the steed, They tied his hands behind his back; They guarded him, fivesome on each side, And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack. They led him thro’ the Liddel-rack, And also thro’ the Carlisle sands; They brought him on to Carlisle castell, To be at my Lord Scroope’s commands. ‘My hands are tied, but my tongue is free, And whae will dare this deed avow? Or answer by the Border law? Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?’ ‘Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! There’s never a Scot shall set ye free: Before ye cross my castle yate, I trow ye shall take farewell o’ me.’ ‘Fear na ye that, my lord,’ quo’ Willie: ‘By the faith o’ my body, Lord Scroope,’ he said, I never yet lodged in a hostelrie, But I paid my lawing before I gaed.’ Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, In Branksome Ha’ where that he lay, That Lord Scroope has ta’en the Kinmont Willie, Between the hours of night and day. He has ta’en the table wi’ his hand, He garr’d the red wine spring on hie— ‘Now Christ’s curse on my head,’ he said, ‘But avenged of Lord Scroope I’ll be! ‘O is my basnet a widow’s curch? Or my lance a wand of the willow tree? Or my arm a lady’s lilye hand, That an English lord should lightly me! ‘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 castell high, Tho’ it were builded of marble stone. ‘I would set that castell in a low, And sloken it with English blood! There’s nevir a man in Cumberland Should ken where Carlisle castell 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 call’d him forty marchmen bauld, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, call’d The laird of Stobs, I mean the same. He has call’d 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; And so they reached the Woodhouselee. And as we cross’d 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? ‘Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?’ Quo’ fause Sakelde; ’come tell to me!’ ‘We go to hunt an English stag, Has trespass’d 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?’ ‘We gang to herry a corbie’s nest, That wons not far frae Woodhouselee.’ ‘Where be ye gaun ye broken men?’ Quo’ fause Sakelde; ‘come tell to me!’ 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 nevir a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie. Then on we held for Carlisle toun, And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross’d; The water was great and meikle of spait, But the niver a horse nor man we lost. And when we reach’d the Staneshaw-bank, The wind was rising loud and hie; And there the laird garr’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 ’twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet, When we came beneath the castle wa’. We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders against the wa’; And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell To mount the first, before us a’. _ |
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