"For when ye come to the Broomfield hill,
(_mansworn_, perjured. _broom-cow_, bush of broom.)
_coft_, bought. _gar'd,_ made. _kin_ kind of.)
"But haste and haste, my gude white steed,
Young Johnstone had a little small sword,
And he stabbed it through the young Col'nel
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
But I wish ye may be hanged on a high gallows,
"It's I hae been at the school," he says,
"I have dreamed a dreary dream," she says,
They were seeking you with hawks and hounds,
But I care the less for the young Col'nel,
But I wad gie thrice three thousand pound,
"Lie still, lie still, my dear Johnstone,
But young Johnstone had a little wee sword,
And he stabbed it in fair Annet's breast,
The red, red drops o' my bonny heart's blood
But I wot they had better stayed at hame;
With my fa ding diddle, la la low diddle.
While tears in spates fa fast frae her eye.
"What news, what news, sister Downie, to me?"
Mitchell is kill'd, and tane they hae my son Johnnie."
"Ne'er fear, sister Downie," quo* Mangerton;
My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a' weel fill'd,
And I'll part wi' them a', ere Johnnie shall die.
The weight o' their braid-swords to feel.
"The Laird's Jock ane, the Laird's Wat twa,
"Your horses the wrang way maun a' be shod;
(_byres_, cow-houses. _dree_, suffer. _caugers_, carriers or dealers.)
Sae now a' their horses are shod the wrang way,
Jock his lively bay, Wat's on his white horse behind,
And there, wi' the help o' the light o' the moon,
A tree they cut, wi' fifteen nags upo' ilk side,
They found their tree three ells o'er laigh,
They found their stick baith short and sma.
"There's naething for't, the gates we maun force;"
A proud porter withstood baith men and horse.
(_weir_, war. _branks_, rope bridles. _brecham_, collar.
_tree_, pole. _nags_, notches. _laigh_, low.)
His life and his keys at ance they hae tane,
"Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the side,
"For here's the Laird's Jock, the Laird's Wat,
For if a' Liddisdale were here the night,
"Fear ye no that," quo' the Laird's Jock -,
Sae weel's ye're harness'd, and sae trig,
(_gar'd_, made. _flinders_, splinters. _trig_, trim.)
"Here I hae lived this thirty years and three,
"Poor faint-hearted thief!" quo' the Laird's ain Jock,
"Here are we a' safe," says the Laird's Jock,