"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 call'd 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. And as we cross'd 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 trespass'd 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 berry 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. "Why trespass ye on the English side? Row-footed outlaws, stand!" quo' he; The nevir a word had Dickie to say, Sae he thrust the lance through his fause bodie. 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 came beneath the castle wa'. We crept on knees, and held our breath, Till we placed the ladders against 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 work 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 came 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."