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 hae hunted sae lang,
  Is seen into the Waste this day.”

  “Then Hobbie Noble is that deer! 
  I wat 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 dreimt a dreim,
  In the Foulbogshiel, where that he lay;
  He dreimt his horse was aneath 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 Hobble na wakened at that time,
  In the Foulbogshiel he had been ta’en or slain.

  “Awake, awake, my feres five! 
  I trow here makes 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, ever alas! it was na sae: 
  They were beset by cruel men and keen,
  That away brave Hobbie might na gae.

  “Yet follow me, my feres five,
  And see ye kelp of me guid ray;
  And the worst cloak o’ this company
  Even yet may cross the Waste this day.”

  But the land-serjeant’s men came Hobbie before,
  The traitor Sim came Hobbie behin’,
  So had Noble been wight as Wallace was,
  Away, alas! he might na win.

  Then Hobbie had but a laddie’s sword;
  But he did mair than a laddie’s deed;
  For that sword had clear’d Conscouthart green,
  Had it not broke o’er Jerswigham’s head.

  Then they hae ta’en brave Hobbie Noble,
  Wi’s ain bowstring they band him sae;
  But his gentle heart was ne’er sae sair,
  As when his ain five bound him on the brae.

  They hae ta’en him on for west Carlisle;
  They asked him, if he kend the way? 
  Tho’ much he thought, yet little he said;
  He knew the gate as weel as they.

  They hae ta’en him up the Ricker-gate;
  The wives they cast their windows wide: 
  And every wife to another can say,
  “That’s the man loosed Jock o’ the Side!”

  “Fy on ye, women! why ca’ ye me man? 
  For it’s nae man that I’m used like;
  I am but like a forfoughen[183] hound,
  Has been fighting in a dirty syke."[184]

  They hae had him up thro’ Carlisle toun,
  And set him by the chimney fire;
  They gave brave Noble a loaf to eat,
  And that was little his desire.