O Jockie Hall stepp'd to the door, And he bended low back his knee, And he made the bolts, the door hang on, Loup frae the wa' right wantonlie. He took the prisoner on his back, 65 And down the Tolbooth stair cam he: The black mare stood ready at the door, I wot a foot ne'er stirred she. They laid the links out owre her neck, And that was her gold twist to be;[L70] 70 And they cam doun thro' Dumfries toun, And wow but they cam speedilie! The live-lang night these twelve men rade, And aye till they were right wearie, Until they cam to the Murraywhate, 75 And they lighted there right speedilie. "A smith! a smith!" then Dickie he cries, "A smith, a smith, right speedilie, To file the irons frae my dear brither, For forward, forward we wad be." 80 They hadna filed a shackle of iron, A shackle of iron but barely thrie, When out and spak young Simon brave, "O dinna you see what I do see? "Lo! yonder comes Lieutenant Gordon, 85 Wi' a hundred men in his companie; This night will be our lyke-wake night, The morn the day we a' maun die." O there was mounting, mounting in haste, And there was marching upon the lee; 90 Until they cam to Annan water, And it was flowing like the sea. "My mare is young and very skeigh, And in o' the weil she will drown me; But ye'll take mine, and I'll take thine, 95 And sune through the water we sall be." Then up and spak him, coarse Ca'field, (I wot and little gude worth was he,) "We had better lose ane than lose a' the lave; We'll lose the prisoner, we'll gae free." 100 "Shame fa' you and your lands baith! Wad ye e'en your lands to your born billy? But hey! bear up, my bonnie black mare, And yet thro' the water we sall be." Now they did swim that wan water, 105 And wow but they swam bonnilie! Until they cam to the other side, And they wrang their cloathes right drunkily. "Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon! Come thro' and drink some wine wi' me! 110 For there is an ale-house here hard by, And it shall not cost thee ae penny." "Throw me my irons," quo' Lieutenant Gordon; "I wot they cost me dear eneugh;" "The shame a ma," quo' mettled John Ha', 115 "They'll be gude shackles to my pleugh." "Come thro', come thro', Lieutenant Gordon! Come thro', and drink some wine wi' me! Yestreen I was your prisoner, But now this morning am I free." 120