Then Hobbie Noble has dreamit a dream,
In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;
He thought his horse was aneath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.
XIX
The cocks could craw, and the day could daw’,
And I wat sae even down fell the rain;
Had Hobbie na waken’d at that time,
In the Foulbogshiel he’d been ta’en or slain.
XX
‘Get up, get up, my feiries five,
For I wat here makes a fu’ ill day;
And the warst clock[1203] of this companie
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.
XXI
Now Hobbie thought the gates were clear,
But, ever alas! it was not sae;
They were beset wi’ cruel men and keen,
That away brave Noble could not gae.
XXII
‘Yet follow me, my feiries five,
And see of me ye keep good array;
And the worst clock of this companie
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.’