"I gi' thee leave, my fool," he says;
"Thou speakest against my honour and me,50
Unless thou gi' me thy trowth and thy hand,
Thou'lt steal frae nane but wha sta' frae thee."
"There is my trowth, and my right hand!
My head shall hang on [Hairibee],
I'll near cross Carlisle sands again,55
If I steal frae a man but wha sta' frae me."
Dickie's tane leave at lord and master,
And I wat a merry fool was he;
He's bought a bridle and a pair o' new spurs,
And pack'd them up in his breek thigh.60
Then Dickie's come on for [Pudding-burn],
E'en as fast as he might drie;
Now Dickie's come on for Pudding-burn,
Where there were thirty Armstrongs and three.
"O what's this com'd o' me now?" quo' Dickie;65
"What meikle wae's this happen'd o' me? quo' he;
Where here is but ae innocent fool,
And there is thirty Armstrongs and three!"
Yet he's com'd up to the ha' amang them a',
Sae weil he's became his curtesie!70
"Weil may ye be, my good Laird's Jock!
But the de'il bless a' your companie.
"I'm come to 'plain o' your man, fair Johnie Armstrong,
And syne o' his billie Willie," quo' he;
"How they hae been i' my house the last night,75
And they hae tane my three ky frae me."
Quo' Johnie Armstrong, "We will him hang;"
"Na then," quo' Willie, "we'll him slae;"
But up and bespake anither young man,
"We'll gie 'im his batts, and let him gae."80
Then up and bespake the good Laird's Jock,
The best falla in a' the companie;