‘It winna ride, my lads,’ quo he;
Then out he cries, Ye the prisner may take,
But leave the irons, I pray, to me.
34
‘I wat weel no,’ cryd the Laird’s Jock,
‘I’ll keep them a’, shoon to my mare they’ll be;
My good grey mare, for I am sure.
She’s bought them a’ fu dear frae thee.’
35
Sae now they’re away for Liddisdale,