[C]Lock the door, [G]Laris[C]ton, [Am]lion o’ [G]Liddles[C]dale,
Lock the door, Lariston, [Am]Lowther comes on,
The [C]Armstrongs are [Am]flying,
Their [F]widows are [G]cry[C]ing,
Castletown's [G]burning[C], and [Am]Oliver's gone;
[C]Lock the door, [G]Laris[C]ton – [Am]high on the [G]weather [C]gleam
See how the Saxon plumes they [Am]bob on the [C]sky,
Yeoman and [G]carb[C]inier,
Fierce is the [Am]battle, and [G]far is the [Am]cry.-Am-Am-Am
[C]Bewcastle [G]brandi[C]shes [Am]high his broad [G]scimi[C]tar,
Ridley is [riding his [Am]fleet-footed grey,
[C]Hedley and [Am]Howard there,
[F]Wandale and [G]Winder[C]mere -
Lock the door, [G]Laris[C]ton, [Am]hold them at bay.
[C]Why doest thou [G]smile, [C]noble [Am]Elliot of [G]Laris[C]ton?
Why do the joy-candles [Am]gleam in thine [C]eye?
Thou bold Border [G]ranger,[C]
Be[Am]ware of thy [G]dan[C]ger -
Thy foes are re[Am]lentless, de[G]termined, and [Am]nigh.-Am-Am-Am
[C]Jock Elliot [G]raised [C]up his [Am]steel bonnet and [G]loo[C]kit,
His hand grasped the sword with a [Am]nervous embrace;
[C]'Ah, welcome, [Am]brave foeman,
[F]On earth there [G]are no [C]men
More gallant [G]to meet [C]in the [Am]foray or chase!
[C]'Little know you [G]of the [C]hearts [Am]I have [G]hidden [C]here,
Little know you of the [Am]moss-troopers' [C]might
Lindhope and [G]Sorby, [C]true,
[Am]Sundhope and [G]Milburn [C]too,
Gentle in [Am]manner, but [G]lions in [Am]fight! –Am-Am-Am
'I've [C]Mangerton, [G]Gornber[C]ry, [Am]Raeburn, and [G]Nether[C]by.
Old Sim of Whitram, and [Am]all his array:
[C]Come all Nor[Am]thumberland,
[F]Teesdale and [G]Cumber[C]land,
Here at the [G]Breaken [C]Tower [Am]end shall the fray.'
[C]Scowl'd the broad [G]sun [C]o'er the [Am]links of green [G]Liddles[C]dale,
Red as beacon-light [Am]tipp'd he the [C]wold;
Many a bold [G]martial [C]eye
[Am]Mirror'd that [G]morning [C]sky,
Never more [Am]oped on his [G]orbit of [Am]gold! –Am-Am-Am
[C]Shrill was the [G]bugle's [C]note, [Am]dreadful the [G]warrior [C]shout,
Lances and halberds in [Am]splinters were borne;
[C]Halberd and [Am]hauberk then,
[F]Braved the clay[G]more in [C]vain,
Buckler and [G]armlet[C] in [Am]shivers were shorn.
[C]See how they [G]wane, [C]the proud [Am]files of the [G]Winder[C]mere,
Howard - Ah! woe to thy [Am]hopes of the [C]day!
Hear the wild [G]welkin [C]rend,
[Am]While the Scots' [G]shouts a[C]scend, -C-C
'Elliot of [Am]Lariston, [G]Elliot for [Am]aye!’ –Am-Am-Am