But when they cam to Newcastle town, 45 And were alighted at the wa', They fand their tree three ells o'er laigh, They fand their stick baith short and sma'. Then up and spake the Laird's ain Jock, "There's naething for't, the gates we maun force;" 50 But when they cam the gates unto, A proud porter withstood baith men and horse. His neck in twa I wat they hae wrung, Wi' hand or foot he ne'er play'd paw; His life and his keys at anes they hae tane, 55 And cast his body ahind the wa'. Now soon they reach Newcastle jail, And to the pris'ner thus they call; "Sleips thou, wakes thou, Jock o' the Side, Or is thou wearied o' thy thrall?" 60 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 do[es] seek?" Then up and spake the good Laird's Jock, 65 "Ne'er 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." "O had thy tongue, and speak nae mair, And o' thy tawk now let me be; 70 For if a' Liddisdale 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 75 Into this dungeon mirk and drearie." "Fear ye no that," quo' the Laird's Jock; "A faint heart ne'er wan a fair ladie; Work thou within, we'll work without, And I'll be bound we set thee free." 80 The first strong dore that they came at, They loosed it without a key; The next chain'd dore that they cam at, They gar'd it a' in flinders flee. The pris'ner now, upo' his back, 85 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;" 90 "I wat weel no!" quo' the Laird's Jock, "I count him lighter than a flee." Sae out at the gates they a' are gane, The pris'ner's set on horseback hie; And now wi' speed they've tane the gate, 95 While ilk ane jokes fu' wantonlie. "O Jock, sae winsomely's ye ride, Wi' baith your feet upo' ae side! Sae weel's ye're harness'd, and sae trig, In troth ye sit like ony bride!" 100 The night, tho' wat, they didna mind, But hied them on fu' mirrilie, Until they cam to Cholerford brae, Where the water ran like mountains hie.