The Textgiven here is comparatively a late one, from the Roxburghe collection (iii. 456). An earlier broadside, in the same and other collections, gives a longer but curiously corrupted version, exhibiting such perversions as ‘Screw’ for ‘Scroop,’ and ‘Garlard’ for ‘Carlisle.’
The Storyin its full form relates that Sir Hugh in the Grime (Hughie Graeme or Graham) stole a mare from the Bishop of Carlisle, by way of retaliation for the Bishop’s seduction of his wife. He was pursued by Lord Scroop, taken, and conveyed to Carlisle and hanged.
Scott suggested that Hugh Graham may have been one of four hundred Borderers accused to the Bishop of Carlisle of various murders and thefts about 1548.
1.GoodLord John is a hunting gone,Over the hills and dales so far,For to take Sir Hugh in the Grime,For stealing of the bishop’s mare.He derry derry down2.Hugh in the Grime was taken thenAnd carried to Carlisle town;The merry women came out amain,Saying, ‘The name of Grime shall never go down.’3.O then a jury of women was brought,Of the best that could be found;Eleven of them spoke all at once,Saying ‘The name of Grime shall never go down.’4.And then a jury of men was brought,More the pity for to be!Eleven of them spoke all at once,Saying ‘Hugh in the Grime, you are guilty.’5.Hugh in the Grime was cast to be hang’d,Many of his friends did for him lack;For fifteen foot in the prisin he did jump,With his hands tyed fast behind his back.6.Then bespoke our good Lady Ward,As she set on the bench so high;‘A peck of white pennys I’ll give to my lord,If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.7.‘And if it be not full enough,I’ll stroke it up with my silver fan;And if it be not full enough,I’ll heap it up with my own hand.’8.‘Hold your tongue now, Lady Ward,And of your talkitive let it be!There is never a Grime came in this courtThat at thy bidding shall saved be.’9.Then bespoke our good Lady Moor,As she sat on the bench so high;‘A yoke of fat oxen I’ll give to my lord,If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.’10.‘Hold your tongue now, good Lady Moor,And of your talkitive let it be!There is never a Grime came to this courtThat at thy bidding saved shall be.’11.Sir Hugh in the Grime look’d out of the door,With his hand out of the bar;There he spy’d his father dear,Tearing of his golden hair.12.‘Hold your tongue, good father dear,And of your weeping let it be!For if they bereave me of my life,They cannot bereave me of the heavens so high.’13.Sir Hugh in the Grime look’d out at the door;Oh, what a sorry heart had he!There he spy’d his mother dear,Weeping and wailing ‘Oh, woe is me!’14.‘Hold your tongue now, mother dear,And of your weeping let it be!For if they bereave me of my life,They cannot bereave me of heaven’s fee.15.‘I’ll leave my sword to Johnny Armstrong,That is made of mettal so fine,That when he comes to the border-sideHe may think of Hugh in the Grime.’
1.
GoodLord John is a hunting gone,
Over the hills and dales so far,
For to take Sir Hugh in the Grime,
For stealing of the bishop’s mare.
He derry derry down
2.
Hugh in the Grime was taken then
And carried to Carlisle town;
The merry women came out amain,
Saying, ‘The name of Grime shall never go down.’
3.
O then a jury of women was brought,
Of the best that could be found;
Eleven of them spoke all at once,
Saying ‘The name of Grime shall never go down.’
4.
And then a jury of men was brought,
More the pity for to be!
Eleven of them spoke all at once,
Saying ‘Hugh in the Grime, you are guilty.’
5.
Hugh in the Grime was cast to be hang’d,
Many of his friends did for him lack;
For fifteen foot in the prisin he did jump,
With his hands tyed fast behind his back.
6.
Then bespoke our good Lady Ward,
As she set on the bench so high;
‘A peck of white pennys I’ll give to my lord,
If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.
7.
‘And if it be not full enough,
I’ll stroke it up with my silver fan;
And if it be not full enough,
I’ll heap it up with my own hand.’
8.
‘Hold your tongue now, Lady Ward,
And of your talkitive let it be!
There is never a Grime came in this court
That at thy bidding shall saved be.’
9.
Then bespoke our good Lady Moor,
As she sat on the bench so high;
‘A yoke of fat oxen I’ll give to my lord,
If he’ll grant Hugh Grime to me.’
10.
‘Hold your tongue now, good Lady Moor,
And of your talkitive let it be!
There is never a Grime came to this court
That at thy bidding saved shall be.’
11.
Sir Hugh in the Grime look’d out of the door,
With his hand out of the bar;
There he spy’d his father dear,
Tearing of his golden hair.
12.
‘Hold your tongue, good father dear,
And of your weeping let it be!
For if they bereave me of my life,
They cannot bereave me of the heavens so high.’
13.
Sir Hugh in the Grime look’d out at the door;
Oh, what a sorry heart had he!
There he spy’d his mother dear,
Weeping and wailing ‘Oh, woe is me!’
14.
‘Hold your tongue now, mother dear,
And of your weeping let it be!
For if they bereave me of my life,
They cannot bereave me of heaven’s fee.
15.
‘I’ll leave my sword to Johnny Armstrong,
That is made of mettal so fine,
That when he comes to the border-side
He may think of Hugh in the Grime.’
The Text.—There are two texts available for this ballad, of which the second one, here given, was said to have been taken down from the singing of an old woman by James Telfer of Liddesdale, and was so printed in Richardson’sBorderers‘ Table Book(1846). It preserves almost the whole of the other version, taken from Robert White’s papers, who recorded it in 1829; but it obviously bears marks of having been tampered with by Telfer. However, it contains certain stanzas which Child says may be regarded as traditional, and it is therefore preferred here.
The Story.—Percival or Parcy Reed was warden of the district round Troughend, a high tract of land in Redesdale. In the discharge of his duties he incurred the enmity of the family of Hall of Girsonsfield (two miles east of Troughend) and of some moss-troopers named Crosier. As the ballad shows, the treachery of the Halls delivered Parcy Reed into the Crosiers’ hands at a hut in Batinghope, a glen westward of the Whitelee stream. Local tradition adds to the details narrated in the ballad that Parcy’s wife had been warned by a dream of her husband’s danger, and that on the following morning his loaf of bread happened to be turned upside down—a very bad omen.
Further, we learn from the same source, the Crosiers’ barbarous treatment of Parcy’s corpse aroused theindignation of the neighbourhood, and they and the treacherous Halls were driven away.
Girsonsfield has belonged to no one of the name of Hall as far back as Elizabeth, whence it is argued that the ballad is not later than the sixteenth century.
1.1.2‘reaving,’ robbing.1.4‘staig,’ horse; ‘stot,’ ox.Godsend the land deliveranceFrae every reaving, riding Scot!We’ll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,We’ll sune hae neither staig nor stot.2.The outlaws come frae Liddesdale,They herry Redesdale far and near;The rich man’s gelding it maun gang,They canna pass the puir man’s mear.3.Sure it were weel, had ilka thiefAround his neck a halter strang;And curses heavy may they lightOn traitors vile oursels amang.4.Now Parcy Reed has Crosier taen,He has delivered him to the law;But Crosier says he’ll do waur than that,He’ll make the tower o’ Troughend fa’.5.And Crosier says he will do waur,He will do waur if waur can be;He’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless;And then the land it may lie lee.6.‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,‘The morning sun is on the dew;The cauler breeze frae off the fellsWill lead the dogs to the quarry true.7.‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,And to the hunting he has gane;And the three fause Ha’s o’ GirsonsfieldAlang wi’ him he has them ta’en.8.They hunted high, they hunted low,By heathery hill and birken shaw;They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.9.They hunted high, they hunted low,They made the echoes ring amain;With music sweet o’ horn and hound,They merry made fair Redesdale glen.10.They hunted high, they hunted low,They hunted up, they hunted down,Until the day was past the prime,And it grew late in the afternoon.11.They hunted high in Batinghope,When as the sun was sinking low.Says Parcy then, ‘Ca’ off the dogs,We’ll bait our steeds and homeward go.’12.They lighted high in Batinghope,Atween the brown and benty ground;They had but rested a little while,Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.13.There’s nane may lean on a rotten staff,But him that risks to get a fa’;There’s nane may in a traitor trust,And traitors black were every Ha’.14.They’ve stown the bridle off his steed,And they’ve put water in his lang gun;They’ve fixed his sword within the sheath,That out again it winna come.15.‘Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,Or by your enemies be taen;For yonder are the five CrosiersA-coming owre the Hingin-stane.’16.‘If they be five, and we be four,Sae that ye stand alang wi’ me,Then every man ye will take one,And only leave but two to me.We will them meet as brave men ought,And make them either fight or flee.’17.‘We mayna stand, we canna stand,We daurna stand alang wi’ thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and we.’18.‘O, turn thee, turn thee, Johnnie Ha’,O, turn thee, man, and fight wi’ me;When ye come to Troughend again,My gude black naig I will gie thee;He cost full twenty pound o’ gowd,Atween my brother John and me.’19.‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,I daurna turn and fight wi’ thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and me.’20.‘O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha’,O, turn thee, man, and fight wi’ me;When ye come to Troughend again,A yoke o’ owsen I’ll gie thee.’21.‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,I daurna turn and fight wi’ thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and me.’22.‘O, turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha’,O, turn now, man, and fight wi’ me;If ever we come to Troughend again,My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’23.‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,I daurna turn, and fight wi’ thee;The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,And they wad kill baith thee and me.’24.‘O, shame upon ye, traitors a’!I wish your hames ye may never see;Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,And I can neither fight nor flee.25.‘Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,And ye’ve put water i’ my lang gun;Ye’ve fixed my sword within the sheath,That out again it winna come.’26.26.4‘graithed,’ accoutred.He had but time to cross himsel’,A prayer he hadna time to say,Till round him came the Crosiers keen,All riding graithed, and in array.27.‘Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,Thou art the very man we sought;Owre lang hae we been in your debt,Now will we pay you as we ought.28.28.3‘fankit,’ entangled.‘We’ll pay thee at the nearest tree,Where we shall hang thee like a hound;’Brave Parcy rais’d his fankit sword,And fell’d the foremost to the ground.29.Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,Alake, he was an unarmed man;Four weapons pierced him all at once,As they assailed him there and than.30.They fell upon him all at once,They mangled him most cruellie;The slightest wound might caused his deid,And they hae gi’en him thirty-three:They hacket off his hands and feet,And left him lying on the lee.31.31.4‘the airt o’,’i.e.in the direction of.‘Now, Parcy Reed, we’ve paid our debt,Ye canna weel dispute the tale,’The Crosiers said, and off they rade;They rade the airt o’ Liddesdale.32.It was the hour o’ gloaming gray,When herds come in frae fauld and pen;A herd he saw a huntsman lie,Says he, ‘Can this be Laird Troughen’?’33.’There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,And some will ca’ me Laird Troughen’;It’s little matter what they ca’ me,My faes hae made me ill to ken.34.‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,And speak my praise in tower and townIt’s little matter what they do now,My life-blood rudds the heather brown.35.‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,And a’ my virtues say and sing;I would much rather have just nowA draught o’ water frae the spring.’36.The herd flung aff his clouted shoon,And to the nearest fountain ran;He made his bonnet serve a cup,And wan the blessing o’ the dying man.37.‘Now, honest herd, you maun do mair,—Ye maun do mair as I you tell;You maun bear tidings to Troughend,And bear likewise my last farewell.38.‘A farewell to my wedded wife,A farewell to my brother John,Wha sits into the Troughend tower,Wi’ heart as black as any stone.39.‘A farewell to my daughter Jean,A farewell to my young sons five;Had they been at their father’s hand,I had this night been man alive.40.‘A farewell to my followers a’,And a’ my neighbours gude at need;Bid them think how the treacherous Ha’sBetrayed the life o’ Parcy Reed.41.‘The laird o’ Clennel bears my bow,The laird o’ Brandon bears my brand;Whene’er they ride i’ the Border side,They’ll mind the fate o’ the laird Troughend.’
1.
1.2‘reaving,’ robbing.
1.4‘staig,’ horse; ‘stot,’ ox.
Godsend the land deliverance
Frae every reaving, riding Scot!
We’ll sune hae neither cow nor ewe,
We’ll sune hae neither staig nor stot.
2.
The outlaws come frae Liddesdale,
They herry Redesdale far and near;
The rich man’s gelding it maun gang,
They canna pass the puir man’s mear.
3.
Sure it were weel, had ilka thief
Around his neck a halter strang;
And curses heavy may they light
On traitors vile oursels amang.
4.
Now Parcy Reed has Crosier taen,
He has delivered him to the law;
But Crosier says he’ll do waur than that,
He’ll make the tower o’ Troughend fa’.
5.
And Crosier says he will do waur,
He will do waur if waur can be;
He’ll make the bairns a’ fatherless;
And then the land it may lie lee.
6.
‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,
‘The morning sun is on the dew;
The cauler breeze frae off the fells
Will lead the dogs to the quarry true.
7.
‘To the hunting, ho!’ cried Parcy Reed,
And to the hunting he has gane;
And the three fause Ha’s o’ Girsonsfield
Alang wi’ him he has them ta’en.
8.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
By heathery hill and birken shaw;
They raised a buck on Rooken Edge,
And blew the mort at fair Ealylawe.
9.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
They made the echoes ring amain;
With music sweet o’ horn and hound,
They merry made fair Redesdale glen.
10.
They hunted high, they hunted low,
They hunted up, they hunted down,
Until the day was past the prime,
And it grew late in the afternoon.
11.
They hunted high in Batinghope,
When as the sun was sinking low.
Says Parcy then, ‘Ca’ off the dogs,
We’ll bait our steeds and homeward go.’
12.
They lighted high in Batinghope,
Atween the brown and benty ground;
They had but rested a little while,
Till Parcy Reed was sleeping sound.
13.
There’s nane may lean on a rotten staff,
But him that risks to get a fa’;
There’s nane may in a traitor trust,
And traitors black were every Ha’.
14.
They’ve stown the bridle off his steed,
And they’ve put water in his lang gun;
They’ve fixed his sword within the sheath,
That out again it winna come.
15.
‘Awaken ye, waken ye, Parcy Reed,
Or by your enemies be taen;
For yonder are the five Crosiers
A-coming owre the Hingin-stane.’
16.
‘If they be five, and we be four,
Sae that ye stand alang wi’ me,
Then every man ye will take one,
And only leave but two to me.
We will them meet as brave men ought,
And make them either fight or flee.’
17.
‘We mayna stand, we canna stand,
We daurna stand alang wi’ thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and we.’
18.
‘O, turn thee, turn thee, Johnnie Ha’,
O, turn thee, man, and fight wi’ me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
My gude black naig I will gie thee;
He cost full twenty pound o’ gowd,
Atween my brother John and me.’
19.
‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi’ thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me.’
20.
‘O, turn thee, turn thee, Willie Ha’,
O, turn thee, man, and fight wi’ me;
When ye come to Troughend again,
A yoke o’ owsen I’ll gie thee.’
21.
‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn and fight wi’ thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me.’
22.
‘O, turn thee, turn thee, Tommy Ha’,
O, turn now, man, and fight wi’ me;
If ever we come to Troughend again,
My daughter Jean I’ll gie to thee.’
23.
‘I mayna turn, I canna turn,
I daurna turn, and fight wi’ thee;
The Crosiers haud thee at a feud,
And they wad kill baith thee and me.’
24.
‘O, shame upon ye, traitors a’!
I wish your hames ye may never see;
Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,
And I can neither fight nor flee.
25.
‘Ye’ve stown the bridle off my naig,
And ye’ve put water i’ my lang gun;
Ye’ve fixed my sword within the sheath,
That out again it winna come.’
26.
26.4‘graithed,’ accoutred.
He had but time to cross himsel’,
A prayer he hadna time to say,
Till round him came the Crosiers keen,
All riding graithed, and in array.
27.
‘Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,
Thou art the very man we sought;
Owre lang hae we been in your debt,
Now will we pay you as we ought.
28.
28.3‘fankit,’ entangled.
‘We’ll pay thee at the nearest tree,
Where we shall hang thee like a hound;’
Brave Parcy rais’d his fankit sword,
And fell’d the foremost to the ground.
29.
Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed,
Alake, he was an unarmed man;
Four weapons pierced him all at once,
As they assailed him there and than.
30.
They fell upon him all at once,
They mangled him most cruellie;
The slightest wound might caused his deid,
And they hae gi’en him thirty-three:
They hacket off his hands and feet,
And left him lying on the lee.
31.
31.4‘the airt o’,’i.e.in the direction of.
‘Now, Parcy Reed, we’ve paid our debt,
Ye canna weel dispute the tale,’
The Crosiers said, and off they rade;
They rade the airt o’ Liddesdale.
32.
It was the hour o’ gloaming gray,
When herds come in frae fauld and pen;
A herd he saw a huntsman lie,
Says he, ‘Can this be Laird Troughen’?’
33.
’There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,
And some will ca’ me Laird Troughen’;
It’s little matter what they ca’ me,
My faes hae made me ill to ken.
34.
‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,
And speak my praise in tower and town
It’s little matter what they do now,
My life-blood rudds the heather brown.
35.
‘There’s some will ca’ me Parcy Reed,
And a’ my virtues say and sing;
I would much rather have just now
A draught o’ water frae the spring.’
36.
The herd flung aff his clouted shoon,
And to the nearest fountain ran;
He made his bonnet serve a cup,
And wan the blessing o’ the dying man.
37.
‘Now, honest herd, you maun do mair,—
Ye maun do mair as I you tell;
You maun bear tidings to Troughend,
And bear likewise my last farewell.
38.
‘A farewell to my wedded wife,
A farewell to my brother John,
Wha sits into the Troughend tower,
Wi’ heart as black as any stone.
39.
‘A farewell to my daughter Jean,
A farewell to my young sons five;
Had they been at their father’s hand,
I had this night been man alive.
40.
‘A farewell to my followers a’,
And a’ my neighbours gude at need;
Bid them think how the treacherous Ha’s
Betrayed the life o’ Parcy Reed.
41.
‘The laird o’ Clennel bears my bow,
The laird o’ Brandon bears my brand;
Whene’er they ride i’ the Border side,
They’ll mind the fate o’ the laird Troughend.’
The Textis from several broadsides and chap-books, but mainly depends on a stall-copy entitledThe Song of Bewick and Grahame, approximately dated 1740. Sir Walter Scott considered this ballad ‘remarkable, as containing probably the very latest allusion to the institution of brotherhood in arms’ (see 14.4, and the use of the word ‘bully’); but Child strongly suspects there was an older and better copy than those extant, none of which is earlier than the eighteenth century.
The Storyis concerned with two fathers, who boast about their sons, and cause the two lads to fight. Christy Graham is faced with the dilemma of fighting either his father or his brother-in-arms, and decides to meet the latter; but, should he kill his friend, he determines not to return alive. Young Bewick takes a similar vow. They fight two hours, and at last an ‘ackward’ stroke kills Bewick, and Christy falls on his sword. The two fathers lament, and the ballad-singer finishes by putting the blame on them.
1.OldGrahame he is to Carlisle gone,Where Sir Robert Bewick there met he;In arms to the wine they are gone,And drank till they were both merry.2.Old Grahame he took up the cup,And said, ‘Brother Bewick, here’s to thee,And here’s to our two sons at home,For they live best in our country.’3.‘Nay, were thy son as good as mine,And of some books he could but read,With sword and buckler by his side,To see how he could save his head.4.‘They might have been call’d two bold brethrenWhere ever they did go or ride;They might have been call’d two bold brethren,They might have crack’d the Border-side.5.5.2‘bully,’ = billie, brother. See page 75.Thy son is bad, and is but a lad,And bully to my son cannot be;For my son Bewick can both write and read,And sure I am that cannot he.’6.‘I put him to school, but he would not learn,I bought him books but he would not read;But my blessing he’s never haveTill I see how his hand can save his head.’7.Old Grahame called for an account,And he ask’d what was for to pay;There he paid a crown, so it went round,Which was all for good wine and hay.8.Old Grahame is into the stable gone,Where stood thirty good steeds and three;He’s taken his own steed by the head,And home rode he right wantonly.9.When he came home, there did he espyA loving sight to spy or see,There did he espy his own three sons,Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he.10.There did he espy his own three sons,Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he;‘Where have you been all day, father,That no counsel you would take by me?’11.‘Nay, I have been in Carlisle town,Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me;He said thou was bad, and call’d thee a lad,And a baffled man by thou I be.12.‘He said thou was bad, and call’d thee a lad,And bully to his son cannot be;For his son Bewick can both write and read,And sure I am that cannot thee.13.‘I put thee to school, but thou would not learn,I bought thee books, but thou would not read;But my blessing thou’s never haveTill I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.’14.‘Oh, pray forbear, my father dear;That ever such a thing should be!Shall I venture my body in field to fightWith a man that’s faith and troth to me?’15.‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?If thou do not end this quarrel soon,Here is my glove, thou shalt fight me.’16.Christy stoop’d low unto the ground,Unto the ground, as you’ll understand;‘O father, put on your glove again,The wind hath blown it from your hand.’17.‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?If thou do not end this quarrel soon,Here is my hand, thou shalt fight me.’18.Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone,And for to study, as well might be,Whether to fight with his father dear,Or with his bully Bewick he.19.‘If it be my fortune my bully to kill,As you shall boldly understand,In every town that I ride through,They’ll say, There rides a brotherless man!20.‘Nay, for to kill my bully dear,I think it will be a deadly sin;And for to kill my father dear,The blessing of heaven I ne’er shall win.21.‘O give me your blessing, father,’ he said,‘And pray well for me for to thrive;If it be my fortune my bully to kill,I swear I’ll ne’er come home alive.’22.He put on his back a good plate-jack,And on his head a cap of steel,With sword and buckler by his side;O gin he did not become them well!23.‘O fare thee well, my father dear!And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town!If it be my fortune my bully to kill,I swear I’ll ne’er eat bread again.’24.24.2‘belive,’ soon.Now we’ll leave talking of Christy Grahame,And talk of him again belive;But we will talk of bonny Bewick,Where he was teaching his scholars five.25.Now when he had learn’d them well to fence,To handle their swords without any doubt,He’s taken his own sword under his arm,And walk’d his father’s close about.26.26.2‘farleys,’ wonders, novelties.He look’d between him and the sun,To see what farleys he could see;There he spy’d a man with armour on,As he came riding over the lee.27.‘I wonder much what man yon beThat so boldly this way does come;I think it is my nighest friend,I think it is my bully Grahame.28.‘O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame!O man, thou art my dear, welcome!O man, thou art my dear, welcome!For I love thee best in Christendom.’29.‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,And of thy bullyship let me be!The day is come I never thought on;Bully, I’m come here to fight with thee.’30.‘O no! not so, O bully Grahame!That e’er such a word should spoken be!I was thy master, thou was my scholar;So well as I have learned thee.’31.‘My father he was in Carlisle town,Where thy father Bewick there met he;He said I was bad, and he call’d me a lad,And a baffled man by thou I be.’32.‘Away, away, O bully Grahame,And of all that talk, man, let us be!We’ll take three men of either sideTo see if we can our fathers agree.’33.‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,And of thy bullyship let me be!But if thoubea man, as I trow thou art,Come over this ditch and fight with me.’34.‘O no, not so, my bully Grahame!That e’er such a word should spoken be!Shall I venture my body in field to fightWith a man that’s faith and troth to me?’35.‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,And of all that care, man, let us be!If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,Come over this ditch and fight with me.’36.‘Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,As God’s will’s, man, it all must be:But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,’Tis home again I’ll never gae.’37.‘Thou art then of my mind, bully Bewick,And sworn-brethren will we be;If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,Come over this ditch and fight with me.’38.He flang his cloak from off his shoulders,His psalm-book out of his hand flung he,He clap’d his hand upon the hedge,And o’er lap he right wantonly.39.When Grahame did see his bully come,The salt tear stood long in his eye;‘Now needs must I say that thou art a man,That dare venture thy body to fight with me.40.‘Now I have a harness on my back;I know that thou hath none on thine;But as little as thou hath on thy back,Sure as little shall there be on mine.’41.He flang his jack from off his back,His steel cap from his head flang he;He’s taken his sword into his hand,He’s tyed his horse unto a tree.42.Now they fell to it with two broad swords,For two long hours fought Bewick and he;Much sweat was to be seen on them both,But never a drop of blood to see.43.Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke,An ackward stroke surely struck he;He struck him now under the left breast,Then down to the ground as dead fell he.44.‘Arise, arise, O bully Bewick,Arise, and speak three words to me!Whether this be thy deadly wound,Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.’45.‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,And pray do get thee far from me!Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart,And so no further can I gae.46.‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,And get thee far from me with speed!And get thee out of this country quite!That none may know who’s done the deed.’47.‘O if this be true, my bully dear,The words that thou dost tell to me,The vow I made, and the vow I’ll keep;I swear I’ll be the first to die.’48.48.1‘moudie-hill,’ mole-hill.Then he stuck his sword in a moudie-hill,Where he lap thirty good foot and three;First he bequeathed his soul to God,And upon his own sword-point lap he.49.Now Grahame he was the first that died,And then came Robin Bewick to see;‘Arise, arise, O son,’ he said,‘For I see thou’s won the victory.50.‘Arise, arise, O son,’ he said,‘For I see thou’s won the victory;’‘Father, could ye not drunk your wine at home,And letten me and my brother be?51.‘Nay, dig a grave both low and wide,And in it us two pray bury;But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side,For I’m sure he’s won the victory.’52.Now we’ll leave talking of these two brethren,In Carlisle town where they lie slain,And talk of these two good old men,Where they were making a pitiful moan.53.With that bespoke now Robin Bewick;‘O man, was I not much to blame?I have lost one of the liveliest ladsThat ever was bred unto my name.’54.With that bespoke my good lord Grahame;‘O man, I have lost the better block;I have lost my comfort and my joy,I have lost my key, I have lost my lock.55.‘Had I gone through all Ladderdale,And forty horse had set on me,Had Christy Grahame been at my back,So well as he would guarded me.’56.I have no more of my song to sing,But two or three words to you I’ll name;But ’twill be talk’d in Carlisle townThat these two old men were all the blame.
1.
OldGrahame he is to Carlisle gone,
Where Sir Robert Bewick there met he;
In arms to the wine they are gone,
And drank till they were both merry.
2.
Old Grahame he took up the cup,
And said, ‘Brother Bewick, here’s to thee,
And here’s to our two sons at home,
For they live best in our country.’
3.
‘Nay, were thy son as good as mine,
And of some books he could but read,
With sword and buckler by his side,
To see how he could save his head.
4.
‘They might have been call’d two bold brethren
Where ever they did go or ride;
They might have been call’d two bold brethren,
They might have crack’d the Border-side.
5.
5.2‘bully,’ = billie, brother. See page 75.
Thy son is bad, and is but a lad,
And bully to my son cannot be;
For my son Bewick can both write and read,
And sure I am that cannot he.’
6.
‘I put him to school, but he would not learn,
I bought him books but he would not read;
But my blessing he’s never have
Till I see how his hand can save his head.’
7.
Old Grahame called for an account,
And he ask’d what was for to pay;
There he paid a crown, so it went round,
Which was all for good wine and hay.
8.
Old Grahame is into the stable gone,
Where stood thirty good steeds and three;
He’s taken his own steed by the head,
And home rode he right wantonly.
9.
When he came home, there did he espy
A loving sight to spy or see,
There did he espy his own three sons,
Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he.
10.
There did he espy his own three sons,
Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he;
‘Where have you been all day, father,
That no counsel you would take by me?’
11.
‘Nay, I have been in Carlisle town,
Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me;
He said thou was bad, and call’d thee a lad,
And a baffled man by thou I be.
12.
‘He said thou was bad, and call’d thee a lad,
And bully to his son cannot be;
For his son Bewick can both write and read,
And sure I am that cannot thee.
13.
‘I put thee to school, but thou would not learn,
I bought thee books, but thou would not read;
But my blessing thou’s never have
Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.’
14.
‘Oh, pray forbear, my father dear;
That ever such a thing should be!
Shall I venture my body in field to fight
With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’
15.
‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?
Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?
If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
Here is my glove, thou shalt fight me.’
16.
Christy stoop’d low unto the ground,
Unto the ground, as you’ll understand;
‘O father, put on your glove again,
The wind hath blown it from your hand.’
17.
‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon?
Or how dare thou stand to speak to me?
If thou do not end this quarrel soon,
Here is my hand, thou shalt fight me.’
18.
Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone,
And for to study, as well might be,
Whether to fight with his father dear,
Or with his bully Bewick he.
19.
‘If it be my fortune my bully to kill,
As you shall boldly understand,
In every town that I ride through,
They’ll say, There rides a brotherless man!
20.
‘Nay, for to kill my bully dear,
I think it will be a deadly sin;
And for to kill my father dear,
The blessing of heaven I ne’er shall win.
21.
‘O give me your blessing, father,’ he said,
‘And pray well for me for to thrive;
If it be my fortune my bully to kill,
I swear I’ll ne’er come home alive.’
22.
He put on his back a good plate-jack,
And on his head a cap of steel,
With sword and buckler by his side;
O gin he did not become them well!
23.
‘O fare thee well, my father dear!
And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town!
If it be my fortune my bully to kill,
I swear I’ll ne’er eat bread again.’
24.
24.2‘belive,’ soon.
Now we’ll leave talking of Christy Grahame,
And talk of him again belive;
But we will talk of bonny Bewick,
Where he was teaching his scholars five.
25.
Now when he had learn’d them well to fence,
To handle their swords without any doubt,
He’s taken his own sword under his arm,
And walk’d his father’s close about.
26.
26.2‘farleys,’ wonders, novelties.
He look’d between him and the sun,
To see what farleys he could see;
There he spy’d a man with armour on,
As he came riding over the lee.
27.
‘I wonder much what man yon be
That so boldly this way does come;
I think it is my nighest friend,
I think it is my bully Grahame.
28.
‘O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame!
O man, thou art my dear, welcome!
O man, thou art my dear, welcome!
For I love thee best in Christendom.’
29.
‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of thy bullyship let me be!
The day is come I never thought on;
Bully, I’m come here to fight with thee.’
30.
‘O no! not so, O bully Grahame!
That e’er such a word should spoken be!
I was thy master, thou was my scholar;
So well as I have learned thee.’
31.
‘My father he was in Carlisle town,
Where thy father Bewick there met he;
He said I was bad, and he call’d me a lad,
And a baffled man by thou I be.’
32.
‘Away, away, O bully Grahame,
And of all that talk, man, let us be!
We’ll take three men of either side
To see if we can our fathers agree.’
33.
‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of thy bullyship let me be!
But if thoubea man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’
34.
‘O no, not so, my bully Grahame!
That e’er such a word should spoken be!
Shall I venture my body in field to fight
With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’
35.
‘Away, away, O bully Bewick,
And of all that care, man, let us be!
If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’
36.
‘Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,
As God’s will’s, man, it all must be:
But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill,
’Tis home again I’ll never gae.’
37.
‘Thou art then of my mind, bully Bewick,
And sworn-brethren will we be;
If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.’
38.
He flang his cloak from off his shoulders,
His psalm-book out of his hand flung he,
He clap’d his hand upon the hedge,
And o’er lap he right wantonly.
39.
When Grahame did see his bully come,
The salt tear stood long in his eye;
‘Now needs must I say that thou art a man,
That dare venture thy body to fight with me.
40.
‘Now I have a harness on my back;
I know that thou hath none on thine;
But as little as thou hath on thy back,
Sure as little shall there be on mine.’
41.
He flang his jack from off his back,
His steel cap from his head flang he;
He’s taken his sword into his hand,
He’s tyed his horse unto a tree.
42.
Now they fell to it with two broad swords,
For two long hours fought Bewick and he;
Much sweat was to be seen on them both,
But never a drop of blood to see.
43.
Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke,
An ackward stroke surely struck he;
He struck him now under the left breast,
Then down to the ground as dead fell he.
44.
‘Arise, arise, O bully Bewick,
Arise, and speak three words to me!
Whether this be thy deadly wound,
Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.’
45.
‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,
And pray do get thee far from me!
Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart,
And so no further can I gae.
46.
‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame,
And get thee far from me with speed!
And get thee out of this country quite!
That none may know who’s done the deed.’
47.
‘O if this be true, my bully dear,
The words that thou dost tell to me,
The vow I made, and the vow I’ll keep;
I swear I’ll be the first to die.’
48.
48.1‘moudie-hill,’ mole-hill.
Then he stuck his sword in a moudie-hill,
Where he lap thirty good foot and three;
First he bequeathed his soul to God,
And upon his own sword-point lap he.
49.
Now Grahame he was the first that died,
And then came Robin Bewick to see;
‘Arise, arise, O son,’ he said,
‘For I see thou’s won the victory.
50.
‘Arise, arise, O son,’ he said,
‘For I see thou’s won the victory;’
‘Father, could ye not drunk your wine at home,
And letten me and my brother be?
51.
‘Nay, dig a grave both low and wide,
And in it us two pray bury;
But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side,
For I’m sure he’s won the victory.’
52.
Now we’ll leave talking of these two brethren,
In Carlisle town where they lie slain,
And talk of these two good old men,
Where they were making a pitiful moan.
53.
With that bespoke now Robin Bewick;
‘O man, was I not much to blame?
I have lost one of the liveliest lads
That ever was bred unto my name.’
54.
With that bespoke my good lord Grahame;
‘O man, I have lost the better block;
I have lost my comfort and my joy,
I have lost my key, I have lost my lock.
55.
‘Had I gone through all Ladderdale,
And forty horse had set on me,
Had Christy Grahame been at my back,
So well as he would guarded me.’
56.
I have no more of my song to sing,
But two or three words to you I’ll name;
But ’twill be talk’d in Carlisle town
That these two old men were all the blame.
The Textis from Motherwell’sMinstrelsy. He received the ballad from Charles Kirkpatrick Sharp. In Maidment’sNorth Countrie Garlandthere is a similar version with a number of small verbal differences.
The Story.—Frendraught in Aberdeenshire, and Rothiemay in Banffshire, lie on opposite sides of the Deveron, which separates the counties. A feud began (as the result of a dispute over fishing rights) between Crichton of Frendraught and Gordon of Rothiemay, and in a fight on the first day of the year 1630, Rothiemay and others were killed. Kinsmen of both parties were involved; and though the broil was temporarily settled, another soon sprang up. The Lord John of the ballad was Viscount Melgum, the second son of the Marquis of Huntly, who was appealed to as a peacemaker between the factions of Leslie and Crichton. Lord John and Rothiemay were sent by the Marquis to escort Frendraught to his home, a precaution rendered necessary by the knowledge that the Leslies were in ambuscade. Arrived at Frendraught, the laird and lady entreated the two young men to remain the night, and eventually prevailed on them to do so.
However (though it was long disputed whether the fire was an accident or not), it seems that the ancient grudge against Rothiemay moved Frendraught tosacrifice ‘a great quantity of silver, both coined and uncoined,’ in the firing of his house for the sake of burning Rothiemay.
Sophia Hay (25.1) was the daughter of the Earl of Erroll, and Viscount Melgum’s wife. The last two lines of the ballad are not easily explained, as the lady is recorded to have been deeply attached to her husband; but it is possible that they have been inserted from a similar stanza in some other ballad.
1.Theeighteenth of October,A dismal tale to hearHow good Lord John and RothiemayWas both burnt in the fire.2.When steeds was saddled and well bridled,And ready for to ride,Then out it came her false Frendraught,Inviting them to bide.3.Said, ‘Stay this night untill we sup,The morn untill we dine;’Twill be a token of good ’greement’Twixt your good Lord and mine.’4.‘We’ll turn again,’ said good Lord John;‘But no,’ said Rothiemay,‘My steed’s trapan’d, my bridle’s broken,I fear the day I’m fey.’5.When mass was sung, and bells was rung,And all men bound for bed,Then good Lord John and RothiemayIn one chamber was laid.6.They had not long cast off their cloaths,And were but now asleep,When the weary smoke began to rise,Likewise the scorching heat.7.‘O waken, waken, Rothiemay!O waken, brother dear!And turn you to our Saviour;There is strong treason here.’8.When they were dressed in their cloaths,And ready for to boun,The doors and windows was all secured,The roof-tree burning down.9.He did him to the wire-windowAs fast as he could gang;Says ‘Wae to the hands put in the stancheons!For out we’ll never win.’10.When he stood at the wire-window,Most doleful to be seen,He did espy her Lady Frendraught,Who stood upon the green.11.Cried ‘Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught,Will ye not sink with sin?For first your husband killed my father,And now you burn his son.’12.O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught,And loudly did she cry;‘It were great pity for good Lord John,But none for Rothiemay;But the keys are casten in the deep draw well,Ye cannot get away.’13.While he stood in this dreadful plight,Most piteous to be seen,There called out his servant Gordon,As he had frantic been.14.‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!O loup and come to me!I’ll catch you in my arms two,One foot I will not flee.15.‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!O loup and come away!I’ll catch you in my arms two,But Rothiemay may lie.’16.16.4‘twin,’ part.‘The fish shall never swim in the flood,Nor corn grow through the clay,Nor the fiercest fire that was ever kindledTwin me and Rothiemay.17.‘But I cannot loup, I cannot come,I cannot win to thee;My head’s fast in the wire-window,My feet burning from me.18.‘My eyes are seething in my head,My flesh roasting also,My bowels are boiling with my blood;Is not that a woeful woe?19.‘Take here the rings from my white fingers,That are so long and small,And give them to my lady fair,Where she sits in her hall.20.‘So I cannot loup, I cannot come,I cannot loup to thee;My earthly part is all consumed,My spirit but speaks to thee.’21.Wringing her hands, tearing her hair,His lady she was seen,And thus addressed his servant Gordon,Where he stood on the green.22.‘O wae be to you, George Gordon!An ill death may you die!So safe and sound as you stand thereAnd my lord bereaved from me.’23.‘I bad him loup, I bad him come,I bad him loup to me;I’d catch him in my arms two,A foot I should not flee.24.‘He threw me the rings from his white fingers,Which were so long and small,To give to you, his lady fair,Where you sat in your hall.’25.Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay,O bonny Sophia was her name,Her waiting-maid put on her cloaths,But I wot she tore them off again.26.And aft she cried, ‘Ohon! alas! alas!A sair heart’s ill to win;I wan a sair heart when I married him,And the day it’s well return’d again.’
1.
Theeighteenth of October,
A dismal tale to hear
How good Lord John and Rothiemay
Was both burnt in the fire.
2.
When steeds was saddled and well bridled,
And ready for to ride,
Then out it came her false Frendraught,
Inviting them to bide.
3.
Said, ‘Stay this night untill we sup,
The morn untill we dine;
’Twill be a token of good ’greement
’Twixt your good Lord and mine.’
4.
‘We’ll turn again,’ said good Lord John;
‘But no,’ said Rothiemay,
‘My steed’s trapan’d, my bridle’s broken,
I fear the day I’m fey.’
5.
When mass was sung, and bells was rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then good Lord John and Rothiemay
In one chamber was laid.
6.
They had not long cast off their cloaths,
And were but now asleep,
When the weary smoke began to rise,
Likewise the scorching heat.
7.
‘O waken, waken, Rothiemay!
O waken, brother dear!
And turn you to our Saviour;
There is strong treason here.’
8.
When they were dressed in their cloaths,
And ready for to boun,
The doors and windows was all secured,
The roof-tree burning down.
9.
He did him to the wire-window
As fast as he could gang;
Says ‘Wae to the hands put in the stancheons!
For out we’ll never win.’
10.
When he stood at the wire-window,
Most doleful to be seen,
He did espy her Lady Frendraught,
Who stood upon the green.
11.
Cried ‘Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught,
Will ye not sink with sin?
For first your husband killed my father,
And now you burn his son.’
12.
O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught,
And loudly did she cry;
‘It were great pity for good Lord John,
But none for Rothiemay;
But the keys are casten in the deep draw well,
Ye cannot get away.’
13.
While he stood in this dreadful plight,
Most piteous to be seen,
There called out his servant Gordon,
As he had frantic been.
14.
‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!
O loup and come to me!
I’ll catch you in my arms two,
One foot I will not flee.
15.
‘O loup, O loup, my dear master!
O loup and come away!
I’ll catch you in my arms two,
But Rothiemay may lie.’
16.
16.4‘twin,’ part.
‘The fish shall never swim in the flood,
Nor corn grow through the clay,
Nor the fiercest fire that was ever kindled
Twin me and Rothiemay.
17.
‘But I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot win to thee;
My head’s fast in the wire-window,
My feet burning from me.
18.
‘My eyes are seething in my head,
My flesh roasting also,
My bowels are boiling with my blood;
Is not that a woeful woe?
19.
‘Take here the rings from my white fingers,
That are so long and small,
And give them to my lady fair,
Where she sits in her hall.
20.
‘So I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot loup to thee;
My earthly part is all consumed,
My spirit but speaks to thee.’
21.
Wringing her hands, tearing her hair,
His lady she was seen,
And thus addressed his servant Gordon,
Where he stood on the green.
22.
‘O wae be to you, George Gordon!
An ill death may you die!
So safe and sound as you stand there
And my lord bereaved from me.’
23.
‘I bad him loup, I bad him come,
I bad him loup to me;
I’d catch him in my arms two,
A foot I should not flee.
24.
‘He threw me the rings from his white fingers,
Which were so long and small,
To give to you, his lady fair,
Where you sat in your hall.’
25.
Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay,
O bonny Sophia was her name,
Her waiting-maid put on her cloaths,
But I wot she tore them off again.
26.
And aft she cried, ‘Ohon! alas! alas!
A sair heart’s ill to win;
I wan a sair heart when I married him,
And the day it’s well return’d again.’
The Textis from Johnson’sMuseum, communicated by Robert Burns.
The Story.—Some editors have identified the hero of the ballad with George Gordon, fourth earl of Huntly, but upon what grounds it is difficult to see.
There are two English broadside ballads, of the first and second halves respectively of the seventeenth century, which are either the originals of, or copies from, the Scottish ballad, which exists in many variants. The earlier is concerned with ‘the death of a worthy gentleman named George Stoole,’ ‘to a delicate Scottish tune,’ and the second is called ‘The Life and Death of George of Oxford. To a pleasant tune, called Poor Georgy.’ One of the Scottish versions has a burden resembling that of ‘George Stoole.’
The ‘battle in the north’ and Sir Charles Hay are not identified.
1.1.4‘wyte,’ blame.Therewas a battle in the north,And nobles there was many,And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay,And they laid the wyte on Geordie.2.O he has written a lang letter,He sent it to his lady:‘Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town,To see what word’s o’ Geordie.’3.3.4‘wallowt,’ drooped.When first she look’d the letter on,She was both red and rosy;But she had na read a word but twaTill she wallowt like a lily.4.4.2‘menyie,’ attendants.‘Gar get to me ray gude grey steed;My menyie a’ gae wi’ me;For I shall neither eat nor drinkTill Enbrugh town shall see me.’5.And she has mountit her gude grey steed,Her menyie a’ gaed wi’ her,And she did neither eat nor drinkTill Enbrugh town did see her,6.And first appear’d the fatal block,And syne the aix to head him,And Geordie cumin’ down the stair,And bands o’ airn upon him.7.But tho’ he was chain’d in fetters strang,O’ airn and steel sae heavy,There was na ane in a’ the courtSae bra’ a man as Geordie.8.O she’s down on her bended knee;I wat she’s pale and weary:‘O pardon, pardon, noble king,And gie me back my dearie!9.‘I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear,The seventh ne’er saw his daddie,O pardon, pardon, noble king,Pity a waefu’ lady!’10.‘Gar bid the headin’-man mak haste,’Our king reply’d fu’ lordly:‘O noble king, tak a’ that’s mine,But gie me back my Geordie!’11.The Gordons cam, the Gordons ran,And they were stark and steady,And ay the word amang them a’Was ‘Gordons, keep you ready!’12.An aged lord at the king’s right handSays ‘Noble king, but hear me;Gar her tell down five thousand pound,And gie her back her dearie.’13.Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns,Some gae her dollars many,And she’s tell’d down five thousand pound,And she’s gotten again her dearie.14.14.3‘bouk,’ body.14.4‘Or,’ ere; ‘tint,’ lost.She blinkit blythe in her Geordie’s face,Says ‘Dear I’ve bought thee, Geordie;But there sud been bluidy bouks on the greenOr I had tint my laddie.’15.He claspit her by the middle sma’,And he kist her lips sae rosy:‘The fairest flower o’ woman-kindIs my sweet bonnie lady!’
1.
1.4‘wyte,’ blame.
Therewas a battle in the north,
And nobles there was many,
And they hae killed Sir Charlie Hay,
And they laid the wyte on Geordie.
2.
O he has written a lang letter,
He sent it to his lady:
‘Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town,
To see what word’s o’ Geordie.’
3.
3.4‘wallowt,’ drooped.
When first she look’d the letter on,
She was both red and rosy;
But she had na read a word but twa
Till she wallowt like a lily.
4.
4.2‘menyie,’ attendants.
‘Gar get to me ray gude grey steed;
My menyie a’ gae wi’ me;
For I shall neither eat nor drink
Till Enbrugh town shall see me.’
5.
And she has mountit her gude grey steed,
Her menyie a’ gaed wi’ her,
And she did neither eat nor drink
Till Enbrugh town did see her,
6.
And first appear’d the fatal block,
And syne the aix to head him,
And Geordie cumin’ down the stair,
And bands o’ airn upon him.
7.
But tho’ he was chain’d in fetters strang,
O’ airn and steel sae heavy,
There was na ane in a’ the court
Sae bra’ a man as Geordie.
8.
O she’s down on her bended knee;
I wat she’s pale and weary:
‘O pardon, pardon, noble king,
And gie me back my dearie!
9.
‘I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear,
The seventh ne’er saw his daddie,
O pardon, pardon, noble king,
Pity a waefu’ lady!’
10.
‘Gar bid the headin’-man mak haste,’
Our king reply’d fu’ lordly:
‘O noble king, tak a’ that’s mine,
But gie me back my Geordie!’
11.
The Gordons cam, the Gordons ran,
And they were stark and steady,
And ay the word amang them a’
Was ‘Gordons, keep you ready!’
12.
An aged lord at the king’s right hand
Says ‘Noble king, but hear me;
Gar her tell down five thousand pound,
And gie her back her dearie.’
13.
Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns,
Some gae her dollars many,
And she’s tell’d down five thousand pound,
And she’s gotten again her dearie.
14.
14.3‘bouk,’ body.
14.4‘Or,’ ere; ‘tint,’ lost.
She blinkit blythe in her Geordie’s face,
Says ‘Dear I’ve bought thee, Geordie;
But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green
Or I had tint my laddie.’
15.
He claspit her by the middle sma’,
And he kist her lips sae rosy:
‘The fairest flower o’ woman-kind
Is my sweet bonnie lady!’