He has ta’en the laird’s jack on his back,
  A twa-handed sword to hang by his thie;
  He has ta’en a steil cap on his head,
  And gallopped on to follow Dickie.

  Dickie was na a mile frae aff the town,
  I wat a mile but barely three,
  When he was o’erta’en by fair Johnie Armstrang,
  Hand for hand, on Cannobie lee.

  “Abide, abide, thou traitour thief! 
  The day is come that thou maun die.” 
  Then Dickie look’t owre his left shoulder,
  Said—­“Johnie, hast thou nae mae in cumpanie?

  “There is a preacher in our chapell,
  And a’ the live lang day teaches he: 
  When day is gane, and night is come,
  There’s ne’er ae word I mark but three.

  “The first and second is—­Faith and Conscience;
  The third—­Ne’er let a traitour free: 
  But, Johnie, what faith and conscience was thine,
  When thou took awa my three ky frae me?

  “And when thou had ta’en awa my three ky,
  Thou thought in thy heart thou wast not weil sped,
  Till thou sent thy billie Willie ower the know,
  To take thrie coverlets off my wife’s bed!”

  Then Johnie let a speir fa’ laigh by his thie,
  Thought well to hae slain the innocent, I trow;
  But the powers above were mair than he,
  For he ran but the puir fule’s jerkin through.

  Together they ran, or ever they blan;
  This was Dickie the fule and he! 
  Dickie could na win at him wi’ the blade o’ the sword,
  But fell’d him wi’ the plummet under the e’e.

  Thus Dickie has fell’d fair Johnie Armstrang,
  The prettiest man in the south country—–­
  “Gramercy!” then can Dickie say,
  “I had but twa horse, thou hast made me thrie!”

  He’s ta’en the steil jack aff Johnie’s back,
  The twa-handed sword that hang low by his thie;
  He’s ta’en the steil cap aff his head—­
  “Johnie, I’ll tell my master I met wi’ thee.”

  When Johnie wakened out o’ his dream,
  I wat a dreirie man was he: 
  “And is thou gane?  Now, Dickie, than
  The shame and dule is left wi’ me.

  “And is thou gane?  Now, Dickie, than
  The deil gae in thy cumpanie! 
  For if I should live these hundred years,
  I ne’er shall fight wi’ a fule after thee.”—­

  Then Dickie’s come hame to the gude Lord Scroope,
  E’en as fast as he might his;
  “Now, Dickie, I’ll neither eat nor drink,
  Till hie hanged thou shalt be.”

  “The shame speed the liars, my lord!” quo’ Dickie;
  “This was na the promise ye made to me! 
  For I’d ne’er gane to Liddesdale to steal,
  Had I not got my leave frae thee.”

  “But what garr’d thee steal the Laird’s Jock’s horse? 
  And, limmer, what garr’d ye steal him?” quo’ he;
  “For lang thou mightst in Cumberland dwelt,
  Ere the Laird’s Jock had stown frae thee.”

  “Indeed I wat ye lied, my lord! 
  And e’en sae loud as I hear ye lie! 
  I wan the horse frae fair Johnie Armstrong,
  Hand to hand, on Cannobie lee.