His neck in twa the Armstrangs wrang;
  Wi’ fute or hand he ne’er play’d pa! 
  His life and his keys at anes they hae ta’en,
  And cast the body ahind the wa’.

  Now sune they reach Newcastle jail,
  And to the prisoner thus they call;
  “Sleeps thou, wakes thou, Jock o’ the Side,
  Or art thou weary of thy thrall?”

  Jock answers thus, wi’ dulefu’ tone;
  “Aft, aft, I wake—­I seldom sleep: 
  But whae’s this kens my name sae well,
  And thus to mese[177] my waes does seik?”

  Then out and spak the gude Laird’s Jock,
  “Now fear ye na, my billie,” quo’ he;
  “For here are the Laird’s Jock, the Laird’s Wat,
  And Hobbie Noble, come to set thee free.”

  “Now hand thy tongue, my gude Laird’s Jock;
  For ever, alas! this canna be;
  For if a’ Liddesdale was here the night,
  The morn’s the day that I maun die.

  “Full fifteen stane o’ Spanish iron,
  They hae laid a’ right sair on me;
  Wi’ locks and keys I am fast bound
  Into this dungeon dark and dreirie.”

  “Fear ye na’ that,” quo’ the Laird’s Jock;
  “A faint heart ne’er wan a fair ladie;
  Work thou within, we’ll work without,
  And I’ll be sworn we’ll set thee free.”

  The first strong door that they cam at,
  They loosed it without a key;
  The next chain’d door that they cam at,
  They garr’d it a’ to flinders flee.

  The prisoner now upon his back,
  The Laird’s Jock has gotten up fu’ hie;
  And down the stair, him, irons and a’,
  Wi’ nae sma’ speid and joy, brings he.

  “Now, Jock, my man,” quo’ Hobbie Noble,
  “Some o’ his weight ye may lay on me.” 
  “I wat weil no!” quo’ the Laird’s ain Jock,
  “I count him lighter than a flee.”

  Sae out at the gates they a’ are gane,
  The prisoner’s set on horseback hie;
  And now wi’ speid they’ve ta’en the gate,
  While ilk ane jokes fu’ wantonlie: 

  “O Jock! sae winsomely’s ye ride,
  Wi’ baith your feet upon ae side;
  Sae weel ye’re harneist, and sae trig,
  In troth ye sit like ony bride!”

  The night, tho’ wat, they did na mind,
  But hied them on fu’ merrilie,
  Until they cam to Cholerford brae,[178]
  Where the water ran like mountains hie.

  But when they cam to Cholerford,
  There they’met with an auld man;
  Says—­“Honest man, will the water ride? 
  Tell us in haste, if that ye can.”

  “I wat weel no,” quo’ the gude auld man;
  “I hae lived here threty years and thrie,
  And I ne’er yet saw the Tyne sae big,
  Nor running anes sae like a sea.”

  Then out and spak the Laird’s saft Wat,
  The greatest coward in the cumpanie;
  “Now halt, now halt! we need na try’t;
  The day is come we a’ maun die!”

  “Puir faint-hearted thief!” cried the Laird’s ain Jock,
  “There’l nae man die but him that’s fie;[179]
  I’ll guide ye a’ right safely thro’;
  Lift ye the pris’ner on ahint me.”