Folk and Traditional Song Lyrics:
Hobie Noble

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Hobie Noble

Hobie Noble

Foul fa the breast first treason bred in!
That Liddisdale may safely say;
For in it there was baith meat and drink,
And corn unto our geldings gay.
   Fala la diddle, etc.

We were stout-hearted men and true,
As England it did often say;
But now we may turn our backs and fly
Since brave Noble is seld away.

Now Hobie he was an Englishman,
And born into Bewcastle dale,
But his misdeeds they were sae great,
They banish'd him to Liddisdale.

At Kershope-foot the tryst was set
Kershope of the lily lee;
And there was traitour Sim o' the Mains
With him a private companie.

Then Hobie was graith'd his body well
I wat it was wi' baith good iron and steel;
And he has pull'd out his fringed grey,
And there, brave Noble, he rade him weel.

Then Hobie is down the water gane,
Een as fast as he may drie;
Tho they should ha' brusten and broken their hearts,
Frae that tryst Noble he would not be.

Weel may ye be, my feiries five!
An daye, what is your wills wi me?"
Then they cryd a' wi' ae consent
Thou'rt welcome here, brave Noble to me.

"Wilt thou with us in England ride?
And thy safe-warrand we will be,
If we get a horse worth a hundred pounds,
Upon his back that thou shalt be."

"I dare not with you into England ride,
The land-sargeant has me at feid;
I know not what evil may betide
For Peter of Whitfield his brother's dead.

"And Anton Shiel, he loves not me,
For I gat twa drifts of his sheep;
The great Earl of Whitfield loves me not,
For nae gear frae me he e'er cou'd keep.

"But will ye stay till the day gae down,
Until the night come o'er the grund,
And I'll be a guide worth ony twa
That may in Liddisdale be fund.

"Tho dark the night as pick and tar,
I'll guide ye o'er yon hills fu' hie,
And bring ye a' in safety back,
If you'll be true and follow me."

He's guided them o'er moss and muir,
O'er hill and houp, and mony ae down,
Til they came to the Foulbogshiel,
And there brave Noble he lighted down.

Then word is gane to the land-sargeant,
In Askirton where that he lay:
"The deer that ye hae hunted lang
Is seen into the Waste this day."

"Then Hobie Noble is that deer;
I wat he carries the style fu' hie!
Aft has he beat your slough-hounds back
And set yourselves at little ee.

"Gar warn the bows of Hartlie-burn,
See they shaft their arrows on the wa'!
Warn Willeva and Spear Edom,
And see the mom they meet me a'.

Gar meet me on the Rodrie-haugh,
And see it be by break o' day;
And we will on to Conscowthart Green,
For there, I think, we'll get our prey."

When Hobie Noble has dream'd a dream,
In the Foulbogshiel where that he lay;
He thought his horse was neath him shot,
And he himself got hard away.

The cocks could crow, and the day could dawn,
And l wat so even down fell the rain;
If Hobie had no wakend at that time,
In the Foulbogshiel he had been tane or slain.

"Get up, get up, my feiries five-
For I wat here makes a fu' ill day-
And the warst clock of this companie
I hope shall cross the Waste this day.

Now Hobie thought the gates were clear,
But, ever alas! it was not sae;
They were beset wi' cruel men and keen
That away brave Noble could not gae.

"Yet Follow me, my feiries five,
And see of me ye keep good ray,
And the worst clock of this companie
I hope shall cross the Waste this day,"

There was heaps of men now Hobie before,
And other heaps was him behind,
That had he been as wight as Wallace was
Away brave Noble he could not win.

Then Hobie he has but a laddies sword,
But he did more than a laddies deed;
In the midst of Conscouthart Green,
He brake it o'er Jers a Wigham's head.

Now they have tane brave Hobie Noble,
Wi' hls ain bowstring they band him sae;
And I wat his heart was neer sae sair
As when his ain five band him on the brae.

They have tane him [on] for West Carlisle;
They askd him if he knew the way;
Whateer he thought, yet little he said;
He knew the way as well as they.

They hae tane him up the Ricker-gate;
The wives they cast their windows wide,
And ilka wife to anither can say,
That's the man loos'd Jock o' the Side!

"Fy on ye, women! why ca' ye me man?
For it's nae man that I'm us'd like;
I'm but like a forfoughen hound,
Has been fighting in a dirty syke."

Then they hae tane him up thro Carlisle town,
And set him by the chimney-fire;
They gave brave Noble a wheat loaf to eat,
And that was little his desire.

Then they gave him a wheat loaf to eat
And after that a can o beer;
Then they cried a' wi' ae consent
Eat, brave Noble, and make good cheer!

"Confess my lord's horse, Hobie," they say,
"And the morn in Carlisle thou's ni die;"
"How shall I confess them?" Hobie says,
For I never saw them with mine eye."

Then Hobie has svorn a fu' great aith
By the day that he was gotten or born,
He never had onything o' my lord's
That either ate him grass nor corn.

"Now fare thee weel sweet Mangerton!
For I think again I@I neer thee see;
I wad betray nae lad alive,
For a' the goud in Christentie.

"And fare thee well now, Liddisdale,
Baith the hie land and the law!
Keep ye weel frae traitor Mains!
For gowd and gear he'll sell ye a'.

"I'd rather be ca'd Hobie Noble,
In Carlisle, when he suffirs for his faut,
Before I were ca'd traitor Mains,
That eats and drinks of meal and maut"

     Enticed by Sim Armstong of the Mains to make a foray into England,
Hobie is betrayed by Sim into the hands of his feud enemy the Engllsh
land sergeant whose brother, Peter of Whitfield, Noble had killed a short
while before.  Hobie was hanged at Carlisle; Sim, according to a dubious
tradition met the same fate a few months later. SOF
Text: George Caw, Poetical Museum, 1784, p. 193

Child #189
SOF
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