‘Had I but thirty well-wight[1207] men,
Thirty o’ the best in Christiantie,
I wad go on to fair Dumfries,
I wad loose my brother and set him free.’
VI
Then up and spak him mettled John Ha’
(For leugh o’ Liddesdale[1208] crackit he):
‘An I had eleven men to mysell,
It’s aye the twalt man I wad be.’—
VII
Then up bespak him coarse Ca’field,
(I wot and little gude worth was he):
‘Thirty men is few anew,
And a’ to ride in our companie.’
VIII
There was horsing, horsing in haste,
And cracking of whips out owre the lee;
Until they cam to the Murraywhat,
And they lighted there right speedilie.
IX
‘A smith! a smith!’ Dickie he cries,
‘A smith, a smith, right speedilie,
To turn back the caukers[1209] of our horses’ shoon!
For it’s unkensome[1210] we wad be.