"There is another ballad, under the same title as the following, in which nearly the same incidents are narrated, with little difference, except that the honour of rescuing the cattle is attributed to the Liddesdale Elliots, headed by a chief, there called Martin Elliot of the Preakin Tower, whose son, Simon, is said to have fallen in the action. It is very possible, that both the Teviotdale Scotts, and the Elliots, were engaged in the affair, and that each claimed the honour of the victory. "The Editor presumes, that the Willie Scott, here mentioned, must have been a natural son of the Laird of Buccleuch."--S. It fell about the Martinmas tyde, When our Border steeds get corn and hay, The Captain of Bewcastle hath bound him to ryde, And he's ower to Tividale to drive a prey. The first ae guide that they met wi', 5 It was high up in Hardhaughswire;[L6] The second guide that they met wi', It was laigh down in Borthwick water. "What tidings, what tidings, my trusty guide?" "Nae tidings, nae tidings, I hae to thee; 10 But gin ye'll gae to the fair Dodhead,[L11] Mony a cow's cauf I'll let thee see." And when they cam to the fair Dodhead, Right hastily they clam the peel; They loosed the kye out, ane and a', 15 And ranshackled the house right weel. Now Jamie Telfer's heart was sair, The tear aye rowing in his ee; He pled wi' the Captain to hae his gear, Or else revenged he wad be. 20 The Captain turned him round and leugh; Said--"Man, there's naething in thy house, But ae auld sword without a sheath, That hardly now would fell a mouse." The sun wasna up, but the moon was down, 25 It was the gryming of a new-fa'n snaw, Jamie Telfer has run ten myles a-foot, Between the Dodhead and the Stobs's Ha'.[L28] And when he cam to the fair tower yate, He shouted loud, and cried weel hie, 30 Till out bespak auld Gibby Elliot-- "Whae's this that brings the fraye to me?" "It's I, Jamie Telfer, o' the fair Dodhead, And a harried man I think I be; There's naething left at the fair Dodhead, 35 But a waefu' wife and bairnies three." "Gae seek your succour at Branksome Ha',[L37] For succour ye'se get nane frae me; Gae seek your succour where ye paid black-mail, For, man, ye ne'er paid money to me." 40 Jamie has turned him round about, I wat the tear blinded his ee-- "I'll ne'er pay mail to Elliot again, And the fair Dodhead I'll never see! "My hounds may a' rin masterless,[L45] 45 My hawks may fly frae tree to tree, My lord may grip my vassal lands, For there again maun I never be!"