A border raid

I have a taste, probably a slightly depraved one in some purists' eyes, for border ballads - that is, the rough folk ballads of the border between Scotland and England.  This is a particularly famous one, telling the story of a border ruffian, one Kinmont Willie, who is arrested by "the false Lord Scroope" who has crossed illegally from England to capture him.  There is peace of a sort between the English and the Scots at the time (13 April 1596 - this is a real historical event), but the Scottish lord, Buccleuch, determines to re-capture him, which he does in a raid of extraodinary boldness.  The whole ballad is too long to quote here, but here are two extracts.

The first tells of the news being brought to Buccleuch, and his anger; the second is after the recapture, when the rescue party swims a turbulent river to escape Scroope.  It is not great poetry, but he has enormous energy and vitality, and there are some great passges of verbal skill (though also, some of rather pathetic rhyme filling, too).  The language is not as difficult as it looks, the obvious meanings are the right ones, on the whole! This is the anonymous Kinmont Willie:

Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,

In Branksame Ha' where that he lay,

That Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willie,

Between the hours of night and day.

He has ta'en the table wi his hand,

He garr'd the red wine spring on hie;

"Now Christ's curse on my head," he said,

"But avenged of Lord Scroop I'll be !

"O is my basnet a widow's curch?

Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?

Or my arm a ladye's lilye hand?

That an English lord should lightly me.

"And have they taen him Kinmont Willie,

Against the truce of border tide,

And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch

Is keeper here on the Scottish side?

"And have they een ta'en him Kinmont Willie

Withouten either dread or fear,

And forgotten that the bauld Bacleuch

Can back a steed, or shake a spear?"

"O were there war between the lands,

As well I wot that there is none,

I would slight Carlisle castell high,

Tho it were builded of marble-stone.

"I would set that castell in a low,

And sloken it with English blood;

There's nevir a man in Cumberland

Should ken where Carlisle castell stood.

"But since nae war's between the lands,

And there is peace, and peace should be,

I'll neither harm English lad or lass,

And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!"

… ... ...

We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,

When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,

And a thousand men, in horse and foot,

Cam wi the keen Lord Scroope along.

Buccleuch has turned Eden Water,

Even where it flow'd frae bank to brim,

And he has plunged in wi a' his band,

And safely swam them thro the stream.

He turned him on the other side,

And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he:

"If ye like na my visit in merry England,

In fair Scotland come visit me!"

All sore astonished stood Lord Scroope,

He stood as still as rock of stane;

He scarcely dared to trew his eyes

When thro the water they had gane.

"He is either himsell a devil frae hell

Or else his mother a witch maun be,

I wad na have ridden that wan water

For a' the gowd ill Christentie."

Comments

[glo]

I like this ballad too. From the perspective of a non expert like me, it has quite a Robert Burns twist. I guess it was meant to be sung with appropriate music.

[Mr Cornflower]

This is the authentic voice of the 'debatable lands', the bandit country on either side of the border between Scotland and England, where allegiance to laws and governments was less important than tribal loyalties and the ability to whistle up a band of mounted desperadoes. The best poem in the collection (technically) is perhaps "The Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens", whose first lines always give me a frisson of anticipation:

"The King sate in Dunfermline toun
Drinking the blude-red wine..."