Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, In Branksome Ha where that he lay, That Lord Scroope has taen the Kinmont Willie, Between the hours of night and day. He has taen the table wi his hand, He garrd 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 taen him, Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide? And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch Is keeper here on the Scottish side? “And have they een taen him, Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear, And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch 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 calld him forty marchmen bauld, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, calld The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same. He has calld 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 crossd 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 trespassed 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 nevir a word o lear had he.