‘O some they count ye well-wight[1164] men, But I do count ye nane; For you might well ha’ waken’d me, And ask’d gin I wad be ta’en. XIX ‘The wildest wolf in a’ this wood Wad no ha’ done sae by me; She ha’ wet her foot i’ the wan water, And sprinkled it owre my bree[1165], And if that wad not ha’ waken’d me, Wad ha’ gone an’ let me be. XX ‘O bows of yew, if ye be true, In London where ye were bought; And, silver strings, value me sma’ things Till I get this vengeance wrought! And, fingers five, get up belive[1166]: And Manhood fail me nought! XXI ‘Stand stout, stand stout, my noble dogs, Stand stout and dinna flee! Stand fast, stand fast, my good gray hounds, And we will gar them dee!’ XXII Johnnie has set his back to an aik, His foot against a stane, And he has slain the Seven Foresters, He has slain them a’ but ane. XXIII He has broke three ribs in that ane’s side, But and his collar bane; He’s flung him twa-fald owre his steed, Bade him carry the tidings hame.... XXIV ‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest Will do as mickle for me As dip its wing in the wan water And straik it on my e’e-bree? XXV ‘Is there no a bird in a’ this forest Can sing as I can say,-- Can flee away to my mother’s bower And tell to fetch Johnnie away?’ XXVI The starling flew to her window-stane, It whistled and it sang; And aye the owre-word o’ the tune Was, _Johnnie tarries lang!_ XXVII They made a rod o’ the hazel-bush, Another o’ the slae-thorn tree, And mony, mony were the men At the fetching our Johnnie. XXVIII Then out and spak’ his auld mother, And fast her tears did fa’: ‘Ye wadna be warn’d, my son Johnnie, Frae the hunting to bide awa’!’ XXIX Now Johnnie’s gude bend-bow is broke, And his gude gray dogs are slain; And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer, And his hunting it is done. FOOTNOTES: [1159] buss = bush, clump. [1160] lap = leapt. [1161] brittled = ‘broken’, cut up venison. [1162] scroggs = stunted, or scraggy, trees. [1163] twine = thread, texture. [1164] well-wight = sturdy, here brave. [1165] bree = brow. [1166] belive = nimbly, at once. _137. Kinmont Willie_ I O have ye na heard o’ the fause Sakelde? O have ye na heard o’ the keen Lord Scroope? How they hae ta’en bauld Kinmont Willie, On Haribee to hang him up? II Had Willie had but twenty men, But twenty men as stout as he, Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta’en, Wi’ eight score in his companie. III They band his legs beneath the steed, They tied his hands behind his back; They guarded him, fivesome on each side, And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack[1167]. IV