He lighted at Lord Durie's door, And there he knocked maist manfullie; And up and spake Lord Durie sae stour, "What tidings, thou stalwart groom, to me?" "The fairest lady in Teviotdale, Has sent, maist reverent sir, for thee. She pleas at the Session for her land a' hail, And fain she would plead her cause to thee." "But how can I to that lady ride With saving of my dignitie?" "O a curch and mantle ye may wear, And in my cloak ye sall muffled be." Wi' curch on head, and cloak ower face, He mounted the judge on a palfrey fyne; He rode away, a right round pace, And Christie's Will held the bridle reyne. The Lothian Edge they were not o'er, When they heard bugles bauldly ring, And, hunting over Middleton Moor, They met, I ween, our noble king. When Willie looked upon our king, I wot a frightened man was he! But ever auld Durie was startled more, For tyning of his dignitie. The king he crossed himself, I wis, When as the pair came riding bye-- "An uglier croon, and a sturdier loon, I think, were never seen with eye." Willie has hied to the tower of Graeme, He took auld Durie on his back, He shot him down to the dungeon deep, Which garr'd his auld banes gae mony a crack. * * * * * The king has caused a bill be wrote, And he has set it on the Tron-- "He that will bring Lord Durie back Shall have five hundred merks and one." Traquair has written a braid letter, And he has seal'd it wi' his seal, "Ye may let the auld Brock out o' the poke; The land's my ain, and a's gane weel." O Will has mounted his bony black, And to the tower of Graeme did trudge, And once again, on his sturdy back, Has he hente up the weary judge. He brought him to the Council stairs, And there full loudly shouted he, "Gie me my guerdon, my sovereign liege, And take ye back your auld Durie!"