The first strong door that they came at,
They loosed it without a key;
The next chained door that they came at,
They gar'd it a' in flinders flee.
The pris'ner now, upo' his back,
The Laird's Jock's gotten up fu' high;
And down the stair, him, irons and a',
Wi' nae sma' speed and joy brings he.
"Now, Jock, I wot," quo' Hobie Noble,
"Part o' the weight ye may lay on me;"