At Kershope foot the tryst was set,
Kershope of the lilye lee;
And there was traitor Sim o' the Mains,
And with him a private companie.
Then Hobbie has graithed his body fair,
Baith wi' the iron and wi' the steil;
And he has ta'en out his fringed grey,
And there, brave Hobbie, he rade him weel.
Then Hobbie is down the water gane,
E'en as fast as he could his;
Tho' a' should hae bursten and broken their hearts,
Frae that riding tryst he wad na be.
"Weel be ye met, my feres[181] five!
And now, what is your will wi' me?"
Then they cried a', wi ae consent,
"Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble, to me.
"Wilt thou with us into England ride,
And thy safe warrand we will be?
If we get a horse, worth a hundred pound,
Upon his back thou sune shalt be."
"I dare not by day into England ride;
The land-serjeant has me at feid:
"And I know not what evil may betide,
For Peter of Whitfield, his brother, is dead.
"And Anton Shiel he loves not me,
For I gat twa drifts o' his sheep;
The great Earl of Whitfield[182] loves me not,
For nae geer frae me he e'er could keep.
"But will ye stay till the day gae down,
Untill the night come o'er the grund,
And I'll be a guide worth ony twa,
That may in Liddesdale be found.
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