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Then Hobbie is down the water gane,
Even as fast as he may drie ; Tho' they shouM a' brusten and broken their hearts,
Frae that riding-tryst he would not be.
' Weel may ye be, my feiries five !
And aye, 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 into England ride ?
And thy safe-warrand we will be, If we get a horse worth a hundred punds,
Upon his back that thou shalt be.'—
' I dare not with you into England ride, The Land-sergeant has me at feid ;
I know not what evil may betide
For Peter of Whitfield his brother is dead.
' And Antony 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 could keep.
' But will ye stay till the day gae down, Until the night come owre the grund,
And I'll be a guide worth cny twa That may in Liddesdale be found.
feiries] feres, comrades. feid] feud.