"Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! There's never a Scot shall set thee free: Before ye cross my castle yate I trow ye shall take farewell o' me." "Fear ye na that, my lord," quo' Willie: "By the faith o' my body, Lord Scroope," he said, "I never yet lodged in a hostelrie, But I paid my lawing before I gaed." Now word is gane to the bauld keeper, In Branksome Ha', where that he lay, That Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willie, Between the hours of night and day. He has ta'en the table wi' his hand, He garr'd the red wine spring on hie, "Now a curse upon my head," he said, "But avengèd 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 lily hand, That an English lord should lightly me? "And have they ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide, And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch Is Keeper here on the Scottish side? "And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear, And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch Can back a steed, or shake a spear? "O were there war between the lands, As well I wot that there is nane, I would slight Carlisle castle high, Though it were builded of marble stane. "I would set that castle in a low, And sloken it with English blood! There's never a man in Cumberland Should ken where Carlisle castle 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 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 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 of lear had he.