But when the land-sergeant the water saw,
“It winna ride, my lads,” quo he;
Then out he cries, “Ye the prisner may take,
But leave the irons, I pray, to me.”

“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.”

Sae now they’re away for Liddisdale,
Een as fast as they coud them hie;
The prisner’s brought to his ain fireside,
And there o’s airns they make him free.

“Now, Jock, my billie,” quo a’ the three,
“The day was comd thou was to die;
But thou’s as weel at thy ain fireside,
Now sitting, I think, ’tween thee and me.”

They hae gard fill up ae punch-bowl,
And after it they maun hae anither,
And thus the night they a’ hae spent,
Just as they had been brither and brither.

Ballad:  Lord Thomas And Fair Annet

(Child, Part III., p. 182.)

Lord Thomas and Fair Annet
Sate a’ day on a hill;
Whan night was cum, and sun was sett,
They had not talkt their fill.

Lord Thomas said a word in jest,
Fair Annet took it ill: 
“A, I will nevir wed a wife
Against my ain friend’s will.”

“Gif ye wull nevir wed a wife,
A wife wull neir wed yee;”
Sae he is hame to tell his mither,
And knelt upon his knee.

“O rede, O rede, mither,” he says,
“A gude rede gie to mee;
O sall I tak the nut-browne bride,
And let Faire Annet bee?”

“The nut-browne bride haes gowd and gear,
Fair Annet she has gat nane;
And the little beauty Fair Annet haes
O it wull soon be gane.”

And he has till his brother gane: 
“Now, brother, rede ye mee;
A, sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
And let Fair Annet bee?”

“The nut-browne bride has oxen, brother,
The nut-browne bride has kye;
I wad hae ye marrie the nut-browne bride,
And cast Fair Annet bye.”

“Her oxen may dye i’ the house, billie,
And her kye into the byre;
And I sall hae nothing to mysell
Bot a fat fadge by the fyre.”

And he has till his sister gane: 
“Now, sister, rede ye mee;
O sall I marrie the nut-browne bride,
And set Fair Annet free?”

“I’se rede ye tak Fair Annet, Thomas,
And let the browne bride alane;
Lest ye sould sigh, and say, Alace,
What is this we brought hame!”

“No, I will tak my mither’s counsel,
And marrie me owt o hand;
And I will tak the nut-browne bride,
Fair Annet may leive the land.”

Up then rose Fair Annet’s father,
Twa hours or it wer day,
And he is gane unto the bower
Wherein Fair Annet lay.

“Rise up, rise up, Fair Annet,” he says
“Put on your silken sheene;
Let us gae to St. Marie’s Kirke,
And see that rich weddeen.”