And have they e'en ta'en him, Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear? And forgotten that the bold Buccleuch Can back a steed or shake a spear?
O were there war between the lands, As well I wot that there is none, I would slight Carlisle castle high, Though it were builded of marble stone.
I would set that castle in a lowe, And slocken it with English blood! There's never a man in Cumberland Should ken where Carlisle castle stood.
But since nae war's between the lands, And there is peace, and peace should be, I'll neither harm English lad or lass, And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!’
THE MARCH
He has called him forty Marchmen bold, I trow they were of his ain name, Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, called The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.
He has called him forty Marchmen bold, Were kinsmen to the bold Buccleuch; With spur on heel, and splent on spauld, And gluves of green, and feathers blue.
There were five and five before them a', Wi' hunting-horns and bugles bright: And five and five cam' wi' Buccleuch, Like warden's men, arrayed for fight.
And five and five like a mason gang That carried the ladders lang and hie; And five and five like broken men; And so they reached the Woodhouselee.
And as we crossed the 'Bateable Land, When to the English side we held, The first o' men that we met wi', Whae suld it be but fause Sakelde?