1 Foul fa the breast first treason bred in! That Liddisdale may safely say, For in it there was baith meat and drink, And corn unto our geldings gay. Fala la diddle, etc. 2 We were stout-hearted men and true, As England it did often say; But now we may turn our backs and fly, Since brave Noble is seld away. 3 Now Hobie he was an English man, And born into Bewcastle dale, But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banishd him to Liddisdale. 4 At Kershope-foot the tryst was set, Kershope of the lily lee; And there was traitour Sim o the Mains, With him a private companie. 5 Then Hobie has graithd his body weel, I wat it was wi baith good iron and steel; And he has pulld out his fringed grey, And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel. 6 Then Hobie is down the water gane, Een as fast as he may drie; Tho they shoud a’ brusten and broken their hearts, Frae that tryst Noble he would not be. 7 ‘Weel may ye be, my feiries five! And aye, what is your wills wi me?’ Then they cryd a’ wi ae consent, Thou’rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me. 8 Wilt thou with us in England ride? And thy safe-warrand we will be, If we get a horse worth a hundred punds, Upon his back that thou shalt be. 9 ‘I dare not with you into England ride, The land-sergeant has me at feid; I know not what evil may betide For Peter of Whitfield his brother’s dead. 10 ‘And Anton Shiel, he loves not me, For I gat twa drifts of his sheep; The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not, For nae gear frae me he eer coud keep. 11 ‘But will ye stay till the day gae down, Until the night come oer the grund, And I’ll be a guide worth ony twa That may in Liddisdale be fund. 12 ‘Tho dark the night as pick and tar, I’ll guide ye oer yon hills fu hie, And bring ye a’ in safety back, If you’ll be true and follow me.’ 13 He’s guided them oer moss and muir, Oer hill and houp, and mony ae down, Til they came to the Foulbogshiel, And there brave Noble he lighted down. 14 Then word is gane to the land-sergeant, In Askirton where that he lay: ‘The deer that ye hae hunted lang Is seen into the Waste this day.’ 15 ‘Then Hobie Noble is that deer; I wat he carries the style fu hie! Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back, And set yourselves at little ee. 16 ‘Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn, See they shaft their arrows on the wa! Warn Willeva and Spear Edom, And see the morn they meet me a’. 17 ‘Gar meet me on the Rodrie-haugh, And see it be by break o day; And we will on to Conscowthart Green, For there, I think, w’ll get our prey.’ 18 Then Hobie Noble has dreamd a dream, In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay; He thought his horse was neath him shot, And he himself got hard away.