"Ye'll gie to him this braid letter,
Seal'd wi' my faith and troth;
And ye'll bid him bring alang wi' him
The body, Jock o' Noth."60
"Whan he came whar grass grew green,
He slack't his shoes and ran;
And whan he came whar water's strong,
He bent his bow and swam.
And whan he came to Benachie,65
Did neither chap nor ca';
Sae well's he kent auld Johnny there,
Three feet abeen them a'.
"What news, what news, my little wee boy?
Ye never were here before;"70
"Nae news, nae news, but a letter from
Your nephew, Johnny Moir.
"Ye'll take here this braid letter,
Seal'd wi' his faith and troth;
And ye're bidden bring alang wi' you75
The body, Jock o' Noth."
Benachie lyes very low,
The tap o' Noth lyes high;
For a' the distance that's between,
He heard auld Johnny cry.80
Whan on the plain these champions met,
Twa grizly ghosts to see,
There were three feet between her brows,
And shoulders were yards three.
These men they ran ower hills and dales,85
And ower mountains high;
Till they came on to Lundan town,
At the dawn o' the third day.
And whan they came to Lundan town,
The yetts were lockit wi' bands;90
And wha were there but a trumpeter,
Wi' trumpet in his hands.