‘Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver! There’s never a Scot shall set ye free: Before ye cross my castle yate, I trow ye shall take farewell o’ me.’
‘Fear na ye that, my lord,’ quo’ Willie: ‘By the faith o’ my body, Lord Scroope,’ he said, I never yet lodged in a hostelrie, But I paid my lawing before I gaed.’
Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper, In Branksome Ha’ where that he lay, That Lord Scroope has ta’en the Kinmont Willie, Between the hours of night and day.
He has ta’en the table wi’ his hand, He garr’d the red wine spring on hie— ‘Now Christ’s curse on my head,’ he said, ‘But avenged of Lord Scroope I’ll be!
‘O is my basnet a widow’s curch? Or my lance a wand of the willow tree? Or my arm a lady’s lilye hand, That an English lord should lightly me!
‘And have they ta’en him, Kinmont Willie, Against the truce of Border tide? And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch Is Keeper here on the Scottish side?
‘And have they e’en ta’en him, Kinmont Willie, Withouten either dread or fear? And forgotten that the bauld 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 castell high, Tho’ it were builded of marble stone.
‘I would set that castell in a low, And sloken it with English blood! There’s nevir a man in Cumberland Should ken where Carlisle castell 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!’