He has bursten the bolts o’ the Elliot men,
Out ower the window the strae cast he,
For they bid to loup frae the window high,
And licht on the strae their fa’ would be.
To the Bishop’s chamber Simmy ran;
“Oh, sleep ye saft, my Lord!” says he;
“Fu’ weary am I o’ your bread and water,
Ye’se hae wine and meat when ye dine wi’ me.”
He has lifted the loon across his shoulder;
“We maun leave the hoose by the readiest way!”
He has cast him doon frae the window high,
And a’ to hansel the new fa’n strae!
Then twa by twa the Elliots louped,
The Armstrongs louped by twa and twa.
“I trow, if we licht on the auld fat Bishop,
That nane the harder will be the fa’!”
They rade by nicht and they slept by day;
I wot they rade by an unkenned track;
“The Bishop was licht as a flea,” said Sim,
“Or ever we cam’ to the Liddel rack.”
Then “Welcome, my Lord,” did Simmy say,
“We’ll win to Whythaugh afore we dine,
We hae drunk o’ your cauld and ate o’ your dry,
But ye’ll taste o’ our Liddesdale beef and wine.”
II—THE YOUNG RUTHVEN
The King has gi’en the Queen a gift,
For her May-day’s propine,
He’s gi’en her a band o’ the diamond-stane,
Set in the siller fine.
The Queen she walked in Falkland yaird,
Beside the hollans green,
And there she saw the bonniest man
That ever her eyes had seen.
His coat was the Ruthven white and red,
Sae sound asleep was he
The Queen she cried on May Beatrix,
That bonny lad to see.