from a cutting in a scrapbook annotated: "Scotsman, 9 November 1892"
........................................
LITTLE JOCK ELLIOT II
A Border Ballad
(From the recital of Matthew Gotterson)
There's freedom for me and my men
Where the Liddel rins wild and free,
Where my toor I'the heart o' the glen
Is the pride o' my billies and me,
And I keep my ain head wi' my hand
And quell every enemie,
For I kittle their ribs wi' my brand,
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Oh my name it is Little Jock Elliot
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
I munt my gude nag wi' a will
Whena fray's I'the wund, and he
Cocks his lugs as he tugs for the hill
That eneters the South countrie,
Where pricking and spurring are rife,
And the bluid boils up like a sea;
But Southrons gang doon I'the strife!
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
In Liddesdale never a man
Wad shrink frae the backing o' me,
And Jed-forest gies me the van
To strike 'gainst her enemie.
In Coquetdale, Reed and Tyne
We drive a prey wi' glee,
And lounder the lubberts like swine,
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
Jock Ridley ance gaily rode doon
To lift my ain horse frae the lea-
A riever o' Tynedale renoun,
A Ker-handed pricker was he.
He made a fell dash I'the derk,
But girnin I soon made him flee
Wi' some weel-proggit holes in his serk;
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
At Wheel-Kirk, within the Catrail,
Priest David had thirty-and-three
Gude nowt that were stown head and tail
By Percy o' Keeldarstanelee.
I chased up the unhallowed loon,
Brought him and his horse to their knee,
And wheeled back the nowt to their toun;
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
In a raid I'the licht o' the moon
The Bewcastle Cout sichted me,
And swore he wad level my croon,
And flaunted his sword michtilie.
We met wi' a rush I'the pass,
Wi' a clash made the steel-fire flee,
But he fell like a stot on the grass;
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
I fear neither Warden not law,
Nor the troopers o' Queen Marie;
Grim Bothwell frae me got a claw
He'll never forget till he dee.
I'll keep my ain head wi' my hand
And my neck frae the hanging tree
As lang as I waiggle a brand -
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Wha daur meddle wi' me?
Oh my name it is Little Jock Elliot
And wha daur meddle wi' me?
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--
Nigel Gatherer, Crieff <[EMAIL PROTECTED]>
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