“The banks o’ Whythaugh I sall na see,
I never sall look upon wife and bairn;
I wad pawn my saul for my gude mear, Jean,
I wad pawn my saul for a ged o’ airn.”
There was ane that brocht them their water and bread;
His gude sire, he was a kindly Scot,
Says “Your errand I’ll rin to the Laird o’ Cessford,
If ye’ll swear to pay me the rescue shot.”
Then Simmy has gi’en him his seal and ring,
To the Laird o’ Cessford has ridden he—
I trow when Sir Robert had heard his word
The tear it stood in Sir Robert’s e’e.
“And sall they starve him, Simmy o’ Whythaugh,
And sall his bed be the rotten strae?
I trow I’ll spare neither life nor gear,
Or ever I live to see that day!
“Gar bring up my horses,” Sir Robert he said,
“I bid ye bring them by three and three,
And ane by ane at St. George’s close,
At York gate gather your companie.”
Oh, some rade like corn-cadger men,
And some like merchants o’ linen and hose;
They slept by day and they rade by nicht,
Till they a’ convened at St. George’s close.
Ilka mounted man led a bridded mear,
I trow they had won on the English way;
Ilka belted man had a brace o’ swords,
To help their friends to fend the fray.
Then Simmy he heard a hoolet cry
In the chamber strang wi’ never a licht;
“That’s a hoolet, I ken,” did Simmy say,
“And I trow that Teviotdale’s here the nicht!”
They hae grippit a bench was clamped wi’ steel,
Wi’ micht and main hae they wrought, they four,
They hae burst it free, and rammed wi’ the bench,
Till they brake a hole in the chamber door.
“Lift strae frae the beds,” did Simmy say;
To the gallery window Simmy sped,
He has set his strength to a window bar,
And bursten it out o’ the binding lead.