  IFoul fa’ the breast first treason bred in! That Liddesdale may safely say, For in it there was baith meat and drink, And corn unto our geldings gay. IIWe 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 seld IIINow Hobbie he was an English man, And born into Bewcastle dale, But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banish’d him to Liddesdale. IVAt Kershope-foot the tryst was set, Kershope of the lily lee; And there was traitour Sim o’ the Mains, With him a private companie. VThen Hobbie has graith’d I wat wi’ baith good iron and steel; And he has pull’d out his fringed And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel. VIThen Hobbie is down the water gane, Even as fast as he may drie; Tho’ they shou’d a’ brusten and broken their hearts, Frae that riding-tryst he would not be. VII‘Weel may ye be, my feiries And aye, what is your wills wi’ me?’ Then they cryd a’ wi’ ae consent: ‘Thou’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me. VIII‘Wilt thou with us into 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.’— IX‘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. X‘And Antony 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 could keep. XI‘But will ye stay till the day gae down, Until the night come owre the grund, And I’ll be a guide worth ony twa That may in Liddesdale be found. XII‘Tho’ dark the night as pick I’ll guide ye owre yon hills sae hie, And bring ye a’ in safety back, If you will be true and follow me.’ XIIIHe has guided them owre moss and muir, O’er hill and houp Til they came to the Foulbogshiel, And there brave Noble he lighted down. XIVThen word is gane to the Land-sergeant, In Askerton where that he lay: ‘The deer that ye hae hunted sae lang Is seen into the Waste this day.’— XV‘Then Hobbie Noble is that deer; I wat he carries the style fu’ hie! Aft has he beat your slough-hounds And set yourselves at little eie XVI‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn, See they sharp their arrows on the wa’! Warn Willeva and Spear Edom, And see the morn they meet me a’. XVII‘Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh, And see it be by break o’ day; And we will on to Conscouthart Green, For there, I think, we’ll get our prey.’ XVIIIThen Hobbie Noble has dreamit a dream, In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay; He thought his horse was aneath him shot, And he himself got hard away. XIXThe cocks could craw, and the day could daw’, And I wat sae even down fell the rain; Had Hobbie na waken’d at that time, In the Foulbogshiel he’d been ta’en or slain. XX‘Get up, get up, my feiries five, For I wat here makes a fu’ ill day; And the warst clock I hope shall cross the Waste this day. XXINow Hobbie thought the gates were clear, But, ever alas! it was not sae; They were beset wi’ cruel men and keen, That away brave Noble could not gae. XXII‘Yet follow me, my feiries five, And see of me ye keep good arra |
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