Lock the door, Lariston, lion of Liddesdale,
Lock the door, Lariston, Lowther comes on.
The Armstrongs are flying, the widows are crying,
Castletown is burning and Oliver is gone!
Lock the door, Lariston, high on the weather gleam,
See how the Saxon plumes they bob on the sky.
Yeoman and carbinier, billman and halberdier,
Fierce is the foray and far is the cry!
- Bewcastle brandishes high his proud scimitar
- Ridley is riding his fleet footed grey
- Henley and Howard there Wandale and Windermere
- Lock the door Lariston hold them at bay
Why cost thou smile, noble Elliot o’ Lariston?
Why do the joy candles gleam in your eye?
You bold Border ranger, beware of your danger,
Your foes are relentless, determined and nigh!
- Jock Elliot raised up his Steel bonnet and Lookit
- His hand grasped the sword with nervous embrace
- Oh welcome brave foemen on Earth there are no men
- More gallant to meet in the fray or the chase
- Little know ye of the hearts I have hidden here
- little know ye or the moss- troopers might
- Linhope and Sorbie true Tundhope and Milburn too
- Gentle in manner but lions in fight.
“I have Mangerton and Ogilvie, Raeburn and Netherbie,
Auld Sim o’ Whitram and all his array,
Come all Northumberland, Teesdale and Cumberland
Here at the Breaken Tower end shall the fray.”
Scowled the broad sun o’er the links o’ green Liddesdale,
Red as the beacon-fires tipped he the wold,
Many a bold martial eye mirrored that morning sky,
Never more oped on its orbit of gold.
- Shrill was the bugles note dreadful the warrior shout
Lances and halberts in splinters were torn
- helmet and halbert then braved the claymore in vain
- Buckler and armlet in shivers were shorn
See how they wane the proud files o’ the Windermere.
Howard! Ah woe tae your hopes o’ the day.
Hear the wide welkin rend while the Scots shouts ascend –
“Elliot o’ Lariston! Elliot for aye!’