To Sybill o’ the Side the tidings came; By the waterside there as she ran She took her kirtle by the hem And fast to Mangerton she’s gane. III Then up and spoke her Lord Mangerton-- ‘What news, what news, my sister to me?’-- ‘Bad news, bad news! My Michael is slain; And they ha’e taken my son Johnie.’ IV The lords they wrang their fingers white, Ladyes did pull themsells by the hair, Crying ‘Alas and well-a day! For Jock o’ the Side we’ll never see mair!’ V --‘Ne’er fear, sister Sybill,’ quo’ Mangerton; ‘I have yokes of ousen, eighty and three; My barns, my byres, and my faulds, a’ weil fill’d. I’ll part wi’ them a’ ere Johnie shall dee. VI ‘Three men I’ll send to set him free, Well harness’d a’ wi’ the best o’ steel; The English louns may hear, and drie The weight o’ their braid-swords to feel. VII ‘The Laird’s Jock ane, the Laird’s Wat twa, O Hobbie Noble, thou ane maun be! Thy coat is blue, thou hast been true, Since England banish’d thee, to me.’ VIII Now Hobbie was an English man, In Bewcastle dale was bred and born; But his misdeeds they were sae great, They banish’d him ne’er to return. IX Lord Mangerton them orders gave, ‘Your horses the wrang way maun be shod, Like gentlemen ye mauna seem, But look like corn-caugers[1185] ga’en the road. X ‘Your armour gude ye mauna shaw, Nor yet appear like men o’ war; As country lads be a’ array’d, Wi’ branks[1186] and brecham[1187] on each mare.’ XI Their horses are the wrang way shod, And Hobbie has mounted his grey sae fine; Wat on his auld horse, Jock on his bey, And on they rode for the water of Tyne. XII But when they came to Cholerton ford They lighted down by the light o’ the moon, And a tree they cut, wi’ nogs on each side, To climb up the wa’ of Newcastle toun. XIII But when they cam to Newcastle toun, And down were alighted at the wa’, They fand thair tree three ells ower laigh[1188], They fand their stick baith short and sma’. XIV Then up spake the Laird’s ain Jock: ‘There’s naething for’t; the gates we maun force.’-- But when they cam the gate until, The porter withstood baith men and horse. XV His neck in twa the Armstrangs wrang; Wi’ fute or hand he ne’er play’d pa[1189]! His life and his keys at anes they hae ta’en, And cast the body ahint the wa’. XVI Now sune they reach Newcastle jail, And to the prisoner thus they call: ‘Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o’ the Side, Or art thou weary of thy thrall?’ XVII Jock answers thus, wi’ dolefu’ tone: ‘Aft, aft I wake--I seldom sleep: But whae’s this kens my name sae weel, And thus to mese[1190] my waes does seek?’-- XVIII