Minstrelsy of the Scottish Border Volume I Part 35

THE FRAY OF SUPORT.

AN ANCIENT BORDER GATHERING SONG FROM TRADITION.

Of all the border ditties, which have fallen into the editor's hands, this is by far the most uncouth and savage. It is usually chaunted in a sort of wild recitative, except the burden, which swells into a long and varied howl, not unlike to a view hollo'. The words, and the very great irregularity of the stanza (if it deserves the name), sufficiently point out its intention and origin. An English woman, residing in Suport, near the foot of the Kershope, having been plundered in the night by a band of the Scottish moss-troopers, is supposed to convoke her servants and friends for the pursuit, or _Hot Trod_; upbraiding them, at the same time, in homely phrase, for their negligence and security. The _Hot Trod_ was followed by the persons who had lost goods, with blood-hounds and horns, to raise the country to help. They also used to carry a burning wisp of straw at a spear head, and to raise a cry, similar to the Indian war-whoop. It appears, from articles made by the wardens of the English marches, September 12th, in 6th of Edward VI. that all, on this cry being raised, were obliged to follow the fray, or chace, under pain of death. With these explanations, the general purport of the ballad may be easily discovered, though particular pa.s.sages have become inexplicable, probably through corruptions introduced by reciters. The present copy is corrected from four copies, which differed widely from each other.

THE FRAY OF SUPORT.

Sleep'ry Sim of the Lamb-hill, And snoring Jock of Suport-mill, Ye are baith right het and fou';-- But my wae wakens na you.

Last night I saw a sorry sight-- Nought left me, o' four-and-twenty gude ousen and ky, My weel-ridden gelding, and a white quey, But a toom byre and a wide, And the twelve nogs[193] on ilka side.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' gane.

Weel may ye ken, Last night I was right scarce o' men: But Toppet Hob o' the Mains had guesten'd in my house by chance; I set him to wear the fore-door wi' the speir, while I kept the back door wi' the lance; But they hae run him thro' the thick o' the thie, and broke his knee-pan, And the mergh[194] o' his s.h.i.+n bane has run down on his spur leather whang: He's lame while he lives, and where'er he may gang.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' gane.

But Peenye, my gude son, is out at the Hagbut-head, His e'en glittering for anger like a fierye gleed; Crying--"Mak sure the nooks Of Maky's-muir crooks; For the wily Scot takes by nooks, hooks, and crooks.

Gin we meet a' together in a head the morn, We'll be merry men."

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a'

My gear's a' gane.

There's doughty Cuddy in the Heugh-head, Thou was aye gude at a' need: With thy brock-skin bag at thy belt, Ay ready to mak a puir man help.

Thou maun awa' out to the cauf-craigs, (Where anes ye lost your ain twa naigs) And there toom thy brock-skin bag.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' taen.

Doughty Dan o' the Houlet Hirst, Thou was aye gude at a birst: Gude wi' a bow, and better wi' a speir, The bauldest march-man, that e'er followed gear; Come thou here.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' gane.

Rise, ye carle coopers, frae making o' kirns and tubs, In the Nicol forest woods.

Your craft has na left the value of an oak rod, But if you had had ony fear o' G.o.d, Last night ye had na slept sae sound, And let my gear be a' ta'en.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en.

Ah! lads, we'll fang them a' in a net!

For I hae a' the fords o' Liddel set; The Dunkin, and the Door-loup, The Willie-ford, and the Water-slack, The Black-rack and the Trout-dub o' Liddel; There stands John Forster wi' five men at his back, Wi' bufft coat and cap of steil: Boo! ca' at them e'en, Jock; That ford's sicker, I wat weil.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en.

Hoo! hoo! gar raise the Reid Souter, and Ringan's Wat, Wi' a broad els.h.i.+n and a wicker; I wat weil they'll mak a ford sicker.

Sae whether they be Elliots or Armstrangs, Or rough riding Scots, or rude Johnstones, Or whether they be frae the Tarras or Ewsdale, They maun turn and fight, or try the deeps o' Liddel.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en.

"Ah! but they will play ye another jigg, For they will out at the big rig,

And thro' at Fargy Grame's gap."

"But I hae another wile for that: For I hae little Will, and stalwart Wat, And lang Aicky, in the Souter moor, Wi' his sleuth dog sits in his watch right sure: Shou'd the dog gie a bark, He'll be out in his sark, And die or won.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en.

Ha! boys--I see a party appearing--wha's yon!

Methinks it's the captain of Bewcastle, and Jephtha's John, Coming down by the foul steps of Catlowdie's loan: They'll make a sicker, come which way they will.

Ha lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a' ta'en.

Captain Musgrave, and a' his band, Are coming down by the Siller-strand, And the muckle toun-bell o' Carlisle is rung: My gear was a' weel won, And before it's carried o'er the border, mony a man's gae down.

Fy lads! shout a' a' a' a' a', My gear's a gane.

[Footnote 193: _Nogs_--Stakes.]

[Footnote 194: _Mergh_--Marrow.]

NOTES ON THE FRAY OF SUPORT.

_And there, toom thy brock-skin bag_.--P. 254. v. 1.

The badger-skin pouch was used for carrying ammunition.

_In the Nicol forest woods_.--P. 254. v. 3.

A wood in c.u.mberland, in which Suport is situated.

_For I hae a' the fords o' Liddel set_.--P. 255. v. 1.

Watching fords was a ready mode of intercepting the marauders; the names of the most noted fords upon the Liddel are recited in this verse.

_And thro' at Fargy Grame's gap_.--P. 256. v. 1.

Fergus Grame of Sowport, as one of the chief men of that clan, became security to Lord Scroope for the good behaviour of his friends and dependants, 8th January, 1602.--_Introduction to History of Westmoreland and c.u.mberland_, p. 111.

_Wi' his sleuth dog sits in his watch right sure_.--P 256. v. 1.

The centinels, who, by the march laws, were planted upon the border each night, had usually sleuth-dogs, or blood-hounds, along with them.--See _Nicolson's Border Laws_, and _Lord Wharton's Regulations, in the 6th of Edward VI_.

Of the blood-hound we have said something in the notes on _Hobbie n.o.ble_; but we may, in addition, refer to the following poetical description of the qualities and uses of that singular animal:

--Upon the banks Of Tweed, slow winding thro' the vale, the seat Of war and rapine once, ere Britons knew The sweets of peace, or Anna's dread commands To lasting leagues the haughty rivals awed, There dwelt a pilfering race; well trained and skill'd In all the mysteries of theft, the spoil Their only substance, feuds and war their sport.

Not more expert in every fraudful art The arch felon was of old, who by the tail Drew back his lowing prize: in vain his wiles, In vain the shelter of the covering rock, In vain the sooty cloud, and ruddy flames, That issued from his mouth; for soon he paid His forfeit life: a debt how justly due To wronged Alcides, and avenging Heaven!

Veil'd in the shades of night, they ford the stream; Then, prowling far and near, whate'er they seize Becomes their prey; nor flocks nor herds are safe, Nor stalls protect the steer, nor strong barr'd doors Secure the favourite horse. Soon as the morn Reveals his wrongs, with ghastly visage wan The plunder'd owner stands, and from his lips A thousand thronging curses burst their way.