"Though the night be black as pick and tar
I'll guide ye o'er yon hill sae hie,
And bring ye a' in safety back,
If ye'll be true and follow me."
He has guided them o'er moss and muir,
O'er hill and hope, and mony a down;
Until they came to the Foulbogshiel,
And there, brave Noble, he lighted down.
But word is gane to the land serjeant,
In Askerton where that he lay—
"The deer that ye ha'e hunted sae lang,
Is seen into the Waste this day."
"Then Hobbie Noble is that deer!
I wot he carries the style fu' hie;
Aft has he driven our bluidhounds back,
And set ourselves at little lee.
"Gar warn the bows of Hartlie burn;
See they sharp their arrows on the wa';
Warn Willeva and Speir Edom,
And see the morn they meet me a'.
"Gar meet me on the Rodric-haugh,
And see it be by break o' day:
And we will on to Conscouthart-green,
For there, I think, we'll get our prey."
Then Hobbie Noble has dreimit a dreim,
In the Foulbogsheil, where that he lay;
He dreimit his horse was aneith him shot,
And he himself got hard away.
The cocks could craw, the day could daw,
And I wot sae even fell down the rain;
Had Hobbie na awakened at that time,
In the Foulbogshiel he had been ta'en or slain.
"Awake, awake, my feres five!
I trow here make a fu' ill day;
Yet the worst cloak o' this company,
I hope shall cross the Waste this day."
Now Hobbie thought the gates were clear,
But even, alas! it was na sae;
They were beset by cruel men and keen
That away brave Hobbie might na gae.