‘Puir faint-hearted thief!’ cried the Laird’s ain Jock,
‘There’ll nae man die but him that’s fie[1193];
I’ll guide ye a’ right safely thro’;
Lift ye the pris’ner on ahint me.’
XXXII
Wi’ that the water they hae ta’en,
By ane’s and twa’s they a’ swam thro’;
‘Here are we a’ safe,’ quo’ the Laird’s Jock,
‘And, puir faint Wat, what think ye now?’
XXXIII
They scarce the other brae had won,
When twenty men they saw pursue;
Frae Newcastle toun they had been sent,
A’ English lads baith stout and true.
XXXIV
But when the Land-sergeant the water saw,
‘It winna ride, my lads,’ says he;
Then cried aloud—‘The prisoner take,
But leave the fetters, I pray, to me!’
XXXV
‘I wat weel no,’ quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,
‘I’ll keep them, shoon to my mare to be:
My gude bay mare—for I am sure,
She has bought them a’ right dear frae thee.’—