Now, Hobie was an English man, In Bewcastle-dale was bred and born; But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banished him neer to return. Lord Mangerton then orders gave,— “Your horses the wrang way maun a’ be shod; Like gentlemen ye must not seem, But look like corn-caugers gawn ae road. “Your armour gude ye maunna shaw, Nor ance appear like men o weir; As country lads be all arrayd, Wi branks and brecham on ilk mare.” Sae now a’ their horses are shod the wrang way, And Hobie has mounted his grey sae fine, Jock his lively bay, Wat’s on his white horse behind, And on they rode for the water o Tyne. At the Cholerford they a’ light down, And there, wi the help o the light o the moon, A tree they cut, wi fifteen naggs upon each side, To climb up the wall of Newcastle toun. But when they came to Newcastle toun, And were alighted at the wa, They fand their tree three ells oer laigh, They fand their stick baith short aid sma. Then up and spake the Laird’s ain Jock, “There’s naething for’t; the gates we maun force.” But when they cam the gate unto, A proud porter withstood baith men and horse. His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung; Wi foot or hand he neer play’d paw; His life and his keys at anes they hae taen, And cast his body ahind the wa. Now soon they reached Newcastle jail, And to the prisner thus they call: “Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o the Side, Or is thou wearied o thy thrall?” Jock answers thus, wi dolefu tone: “Aft, aft I wake, I seldom sleip; But wha’s this kens my name sae weel, And thus to hear my waes does seek?” Then up and spake the good Laird’s Jock: “Neer fear ye now, my billie,” quo he; “For here’s the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat, And Hobie Noble, come to set thee free.” “Oh, had thy tongue, and speak nae mair, And o thy talk now let me be! For if a’ Liddesdale were here the night, The morn’s the day that I maun die. “Full fifteen stane o Spanish iron, They hae laid a’ right sair on me; Wi locks and keys I am fast bound Into this dungeon mirk and drearie.” “Fear ye no that,” quo the Laird’s Jock; “A faint heart neer wan a fair ladie; Work thou within, we’ll work without, And I’ll be sworn we set thee free.” The first strong dore that they came at, They loosed it without a key; The next chaind dore that they cam at, They gard it a’ in flinders flee. The prisner now, upo his back, The Laird’s Jock’s gotten up fu hie; And down the stair him, irons and a’, Wi nae sma speed and joy brings he. “Now, Jock, I wat,” quo Hobie Noble, “Part o the weight ye may lay on me,” “I wat weel no,” quo the Laird’s Jock “I count him lighter than a flee.”