Ballad Book Part 14

"But since nae war's between the lands, And there is peace, and peace should be, I'll neither harm English lad or la.s.s, And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!"

He has called him forty Marchmen bauld, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, called The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.

He has called him forty Marchmen bauld, Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch; With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, And gluves of green, and feathers blue.

There were five and five before them a', Wi' hunting horns and bugles bright: And five and five cam' wi' Buccleuch, Like warden's men, arrayed for fight.

And five and five, like masons gang, That carried the ladders lang and hie; And five and five like broken men; And so they reached the Woodhouselee.

And as we crossed the 'Bateable Land, When to the English side we held, The first o' men that we met wi', Wha 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 trespa.s.sed 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 d.i.c.kie of Dryhope led that band, And the nevir a word of lear had he.

"Why trespa.s.s ye on the English side?

Row-footed outlaws, stand!" quo' he; The nevir a word had d.i.c.kie 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 crossed, The water was great and meikle of spait, But the never a horse nor man we lost.

And when we reached 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 neigh.

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 cam' beneath the castle wa'.

We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders agin the wa'; And sae ready was Buccleuch himsell To mount the first before us a'.

He has ta'en the watchman by the throat, He flung him down upon the lead: "Had there not been peace between our lands, Upon the other side thou hadst gaed!

"Now sound out, trumpets!" quo' Buccleuch; "Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrilie!"

Then loud the warden's trumpet blew-- O wha, dare meddle wi' me?

Then speedilie to wark we gaed, And raised the slogan ane and a', And cut a hole through a sheet of lead, And so we wan to the castle ha'.

They thought King James and a' his men Had won the house wi' bow and spear; It was but twenty Scots and ten, That put a thousand in sic a stear!

Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers, We garr'd the bars bang merrilie, Until we cam' to the inner prison, Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie.

And when we cam' to the lower prison, Where Willie o' Kinmont he did lie,-- "O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willie, Upon the morn that thou's to die?"

"O I sleep saft, and I wake aft; It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae me; Gie my service back to my wife and bairns, And a' gude fellows that spier for me."

Then Red Rowan has hente him up, The starkest man in Teviotdale,-- "Abide, abide now, Red Rowan, Till of my Lord Scroope I tak' farewell.

"Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!

My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he cried: "I'll pay you for my lodging maill, When first we meet on the Border side."

Then shoulder high, with shout and cry, We bore him doun the ladder lang; At every stride Red Rowan made, I wot the Kinmont's aims played clang

"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie, "I have ridden horse baith wild and wood; But a rougher beast than Red Rowan I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode.

"And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willie, I've p.r.i.c.ked a horse out oure the furs; But since the day I backed a steed, I never wore sic c.u.mbrous spurs."

We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank, When a' the Carlisle bells were rung, And a thousand men on horse and foot Cam' wi' the keen Lord Scroope along.

Buccleuch has turned to Eden Water, Even where it flowed frae bank to brim, And he has plunged in wi' a' his band, And safely swam them through the stream.

He turned him on the other side, And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he: "If ye like na my visit in merry England, In fair Scotland come visit me!"

All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope, He stood as still as rock of stane; He scarcely dared to trew his eyes, When through the water they had gane.

"He is either himsell a devil frae h.e.l.l, Or else his mither a witch maun be; I wadna hae ridden that wan water For a' the gowd in Christentie."

KING JOHN AND THE ABBOT OF CANTEBBURY.

An ancient story Ile tell you anon Of a notable prince, that was called King John; He ruled over England with maine and with might, For he did great wrong, and mainteined little right.

And Ile tell you a story, a story so merrye, Concerning the Abbot of Canterburye; How for his housekeeping and high renowne, They rode poste for him to fair London towne.

A hundred men, for the king did hear say, The abbot kept in his house every day; And fifty golde chaynes, without any doubt, In velvet coates waited the abbot about.

"How now, father abbot? I heare it of thee, Thou keepest a farre better house than mee; And for thy housekeeping and high renowne, I feare thou work'st treason against my crown."

"My liege," quo' the abbot, "I would it were knowne, I never spend nothing but what is my owne; And I trust your grace will doe me no deere, For spending of my owne true-gotten geere."

"Yes, yes, father abbot, thy faulte it is highe, And now for the same thou needest must dye; And except thou canst answer me questions three, Thy head shall be smitten from thy bodie.

"And first," quo' the king, "when I'm in this stead, With my crown of golde so faire on my head, Among all my liegemen so n.o.ble of birthe, Thou must tell to one penny what I am worthe.

"Secondlye, tell me, without any doubt, How soon I may ride the whole world about; And at the third question thou must not shrink, But tell me here truly, what I do think?"

"O, these are deep questions for my shallow witt, Nor I cannot answer your grace as yet: But if you will give me but three weekes s.p.a.ce, I'll do my endeavor to answer your grace."

"Now three weekes s.p.a.ce to thee will I give, And that is the longest thou hast to live; For unless thou answer my questions three, Thy life and thy lands are forfeit to mee."

Away rode the abbot all sad at this word; And he rode to Cambridge and Oxenford; But never a doctor there was so wise, That could with his learning an answer devise.