Child's Ballads/178

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A[edit]

IT befell at Martynmas,
When wether waxed colde,
Captaine Care said to his men,
We must go take a holde.
?? Syck, sike, and to-towe sike,
And sike and like to die;
The sikest nighte that euer I abode,
God lord haue mercy on me!
'Haille, master, and wether you will,
And wether ye like it best;'
'To the castle of Crecrynbroghe,
And there we will take our reste.'
'I knowe wher is a gay castle,
Is builded of lyme and stone;
Within their is a gay ladie,
Her lord is riden and gone.'
The ladie she lend on her castle-walle,
She loked vpp and downe;
There was she ware of an host of men,
Come riding to the towne.
'Se yow, my meri men all,
And se yow what I see?
Yonder I see an host of men,
I muse who they bee.'
She thought he had ben her wed lord,
As he comd riding home;
Then was it traitur Captaine Care
The lord of Ester-towne.
They wer no soner at supper sett,
Then after said the grace,
Or Captaine Care and all his men
Wer lighte aboute the place.
'Gyue ouer thi howsse, thou lady gay,
And I will make the a bande;
To-nighte thou shall ly within my armes,
To-morrowe thou shall ere my lande.'
Then bespacke the eldest sonne,
That was both whitt and redde:
O mother dere, geue ouer your howsse,
Or elles we shalbe deade.
'I will not geue ouer my hous,' she saithe,
'Not for feare of my lyffe;
It shalbe talked throughout the land,
The slaughter of a wyffe.
'Fetch me my pestilett,
And charge me my gonne,
That I may shott at yonder bloddy butcher,
The lord of Easter-towne.'
Styfly vpon her wall she stode,
And lett the pellettes flee;
But then she myst the blody bucher,
And she slew other three.
'[I will] not geue ouer my hous,' she saithe,
'Netheir for lord nor lowne;
Nor yet for traitour Captaine Care,
The lord of Easter-towne.
'I desire of Captine Care,
And all his bloddye band,
That he would saue my eldest sonne,
The eare of all my lande.'
'Lap him in a shete,' he sayth,
'And let him downe to me,
And I shall take him in my armes,
His waran shall I be.'
The captayne sayd unto him selfe:
Wyth sped, before the rest,
He cut his tonge out of his head,
His hart out of his brest.
He lapt them in a handkerchef,
And knet it of knotes three,
And cast them ouer the castell-wall,
At that gay ladye.
'Fye vpon the, Captayne Care,
And all thy bloddy band!
For thou hast slayne my eldest sonne,
The ayre of all my land.'
Then bespake the yongest sonne,
That say on the nurses knee,
Sayth, Mother gay, geue ouer your house;
It smoldereth me.
'I wold geue my gold,' she saith,
'And so I wolde my fee,
For a blaste of the westryn wind,
To dryue the smoke from thee.
'Fy vpon the, John Hamleton,
That euer I paid the hyre!
For thou hast broken my castle-wall,
And kyndled in the fyre.'
The lady gate to her close parler,
The fire fell aboute her head;
She toke vp her childern thre,
Seth, Babes, we are all dead.
Then bespake the hye steward,
That is of hye degree;
Saith, Ladie gay, you are in close,
Wether ye fighte or flee.
Lord Hamleton dremd in his dream,
In Caruall where he laye,
His halle were all of fyre,
His ladie slayne or daye.
'Busk and bowne, my merry men all,
Even and go ye with me;
For I dremd that my haal was on fyre,
My lady slayne or day.'
He buskt him and bownd hym,
And like a worthi knighte;
And when he saw his hall burning,
His harte was no dele lighte.
He sett a trumpett till his mouth,
He blew as it plesd his grace;
Twenty score of Hamlentons
Was light aboute the place.
'Had I knowne as much yesternighte
As I do to-daye,
Captaine Care and all his men
Should not haue gone so quite.
'Fye vpon the, Captaine Care,
And all thy blody bande!
Thou haste slayne my lady gay,
More wurth then all thy lande.
'If thou had ought eny ill will,' he saith,
'Thou shoulde haue taken my lyffe,
And haue saved my children thre,
All and my louesome wyffe.'

B[edit]

'FFAITH, master, whither you will,
Whereas you like the best;
Vnto the castle of Bittons-borrow,
And there to take your rest.'
'But yonder stands a castle faire,
Is made of lyme and stone;
Yonder is in it a fayre lady,
Her lord is ridden and gone.'
The lady stood on her castle-wall,
She looked vpp and downe;
She was ware of an hoast of men,
Came rydinge towards the towne.
'See you not, my merry men all,
And see you not what I doe see?
Methinks I see a hoast of men;
I muse who they shold be.'
She thought it had beene her louly lord,
He had come ryding home;
It was the traitor, Captaine Carre,
The lord of Westerton-towne.
They had noe sooner super sett,
And after said the grace,
But the traitor, Captaine Carre,
Was light about the place.
'Giue over thy house, thou lady gay,
I will make thee a band;
All night with-in mine armes thou'st lye,
To-morrow be the heyre of my land.'
'I'le not giue over my house,' shee said,
'Neither for ladds nor man,
Nor yet for traitor Captaine Carre,
Vntill my lord come home.
'But reach me my pistoll pe[c]e,
And charge you well my gunne;
I'le shoote at the bloody bucher,
The lord of Westerton.'
She stood vppon her castle-wall
And let the bulletts flee,
And where shee mist .
. . .
But then bespake the litle child,
That sate on the nurses knee;
Saies, Mother deere, giue ore this house,
For the smoake it smoothers me.
'I wold giue all my gold, my childe,
Soe wold I doe all my fee,
For one blast of the westerne wind
To blow the smoke from thee.'
But when shee saw the fier
Came flaming ore her head,
Shee tooke then vpp her children two,
Sayes, Babes, we all beene dead!
But Adam then he fired the house,
A sorrowfull sight to see;
Now hath he burned this lady faire
And eke her children three.
Then Captaine Carre he rode away,
He staid noe longer at that tide;
He thought that place it was to warme
Soe neere for to abide.
He calld vnto his merry men all,
Bidd them make hast away;
'For we haue slaine his children three,
All and his lady gay.'
Worde came to louly London,
To London wheras her lord lay,
His castle and his hall was burned,
All and his lady gay.
Soe hath he done his children three,
More dearer vnto him
Then either the siluer or the gold,
That men soe faine wold win.
But when he looket this writing on,
Lord, in is hart he was woe!
Saies, I will find thee, Captaine Carre,
Wether thou ryde or goe!
Buske yee, bowne yee, my merrymen all,
With tempered swords of steele,
For till I haue found out Captaine Carre,
My hart it is nothing weele.
But when he came to Dractons-borrow,
Soe long ere it was day,
And ther he found him Captaine Carre;
That night he ment to stay.

  • * * * *

C[edit]

C.* * * *
'LUK ye to yon hie castel,
Yon hie castel we see;
A woman's wit's sun oercum,
She'll gie up her house to me.'
She ca'd to her merry men a',
'Bring me my five pistols and my lang gun;'
The first shot the fair lady shot,
She shot seven of Gordon's men.
He turned round about his back,
And sware he woud ha his desire,
And if that castel was built of gowd,
It should gang a' to fire.
Up then spak her doughter deere,
She had nae mair than she:
'Gie up your house, now, mither deere,
The reek it skomfishes me.'
'I'd rather see you birnt,' said she,
'And doun to ashes fa,
Ere I gie up my house to Adam of Gordon,
And to his merry men a'.
'I've four and twenty kye
Gaing upo the muir;
I'd gie em for a blast of wind,
The reek it blaws sae sour.'
Up then spak her little young son,
Sits on the nourrice knee:
'Gie up your house, now, mither deere,
The reek it skomfishes me.'
'I've twenty four ships
A sailing on the sea;
I'll gie em for a blast of southern wind,
To blaw the reek frae thee.
'I'd rather see you birnt,' said she,
'And grund as sma as flour,
Eer I gie up my noble house,
To be Adam of Gordon's hure.'

  • * * * *

D[edit]

IT fell about the Martinmas,
When the wind blew schrile and cauld,
Said Edom o Gordon to his men,
We maun draw to a hald.
'And what an a hald sall we draw to,
My merry men and me?
We will gae to the house of the Rhodes,
To see that fair lady.'
She had nae sooner busket her sell,
Nor putten on her gown,
Till Edom o Gordon and his men
Were round about the town.
They had nae sooner sitten down,
Nor sooner said the grace,
Till Edom o Gordon and his men
Were closed about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower-head,
As fast as she could drie,
To see if by her fair speeches
She could with him agree.
As soon he saw the lady fair,
And hir yates all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his heart was aghast.
'Cum down to me, ye lady fair,
Cum down to me; let's see;
This night ye's ly by my ain side,
The morn my bride sall be.'
'I winnae cum down, ye fals Gordon,
I winnae cum down to thee;
I winnae forsake my ane dear lord,
That is sae far frae me.'
'Gi up your house, ye fair lady,
Gi up your house to me,
Or I will burn yoursel therein,
Bot and your babies three.'
'I winnae gie up, you fals Gordon,
To nae sik traitor as thee,
Tho you should burn mysel therein,
Bot and my babies three.'
'Set fire to the house,' quoth fals Gordon,
'Sin better may nae bee;
And I will burn hersel therein,
Bot and her babies three.'
'And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man!
I paid ye weil your fee;
Why pow ye out my ground-wa-stane,
Lets in the reek to me?
'And ein wae worth ye, Jock my man!
For I paid you weil your hire;
Why pow ye out my ground-wa-stane,
To me lets in the fire?'
'Ye paid me weil my hire, lady,
Ye paid me weil my fee,
But now I'm Edom of Gordon's man,
Maun either do or die.'
O then bespake her youngest son,
Sat on the nurses knee,
'Dear mother, gie owre your house,' he says,
'For the reek it worries me.'
'I winnae gie up my house, my dear,
To nae sik traitor as he;
Cum weil, cum wae, my jewels fair,
Ye maun tak share wi me.'
O then bespake her dochter dear,
She was baith jimp and sma;
'O row me in a pair o shiets,
And tow me owre the wa.'
They rowd her in a pair of shiets,
And towd her owre the wa,
But on the point of Edom's speir
She gat a deadly fa.
O bonny, bonny was hir mouth,
And chirry were her cheiks,
And clear, clear was hir yellow hair,
Whereon the reid bluid dreips!
Then wi his speir he turnd hir owr;
O gin hir face was wan!
He said, You are the first that eer
I wist alive again.
He turned hir owr and owr again;
O gin hir skin was whyte!
He said, I might ha spard thy life
To been some mans delyte.
'Busk and boon, my merry men all,
For ill dooms I do guess;
I cannae luik in that boony face,
As it lyes on the grass.'
'Them luiks to freits, my master deir,
Then freits will follow them;
Let it neir be said brave Edom o Gordon
Was daunted with a dame.'
O then he spied hir ain deir lord,
As he came owr the lee;
He saw his castle in a fire,
As far as he could see.
'Put on, put on, my mighty men,
As fast as ye can drie!
For he that's hindmost of my men
Sall neir get guid o me.'
And some they raid, and some they ran,
Fu fast out-owr the plain,
But lang, lang eer he coud get up
They were a' deid and slain.
But mony were the mudie men
Lay gasping on the grien;
For o fifty men that Edom brought out
There were but five ged heme.
And mony were the mudie men
Lay gasping on the grien,
And mony were the fair ladys
Lay lemanless at heme.
And round and round the waes he went,
Their ashes for to view;
At last into the flames he flew,
And bad the world adieu.

E[edit]

IT fell about the Martinmas time,
When the wind blew shrill and cauld,
Said Captain Gordon to his men,
We'll a' draw to som hauld.
'And whatena hauld shall we draw to,
To be the nearest hame?'
'We will draw to the ha o bonny Cargarff;
The laird is na at hame.'
The lady sat on her castle-wa,
Beheld both dale and down;
And she beheld the fause Gordon
Come halycon to the town.
'Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house,
Gie ower yer house to me;
Now, Lady Cargarff, gie ower yer house,
Or in it you shall die.'
'I'll no gie ower my bonny house,
To lord nor yet to loun;
I'll no gie ower my bonny house
To the traitors of Auchindown.'

  • * * * *

Then up and spak her youngest son,
Sat at the nourice's knee:
'O mother dear, gie ower yer house,
For the reek o't smothers me.'
'I would gie a' my goud, my child,
Sae would I a' my fee,
For ae blast o the westlan win,
To blaw the reek frae thee.'
Then up and spak her eldest heir,
He spak wi muckle pride:
'Now mother dear, keep weel yer house,
And I'll fight by yer side.'

F[edit]

IT fell about the Martinmas time,
When the wind blew snell and cauld,
That Adam o Gordon said to his men,
Where will we get a hold?
See [ye] not where yonder fair castle
Stands on yon lily lee?
The laird and I hae a deadly feud,
The lady fain would I see.
As she was up on the househead,
Behold, on looking down,
She saw Adam o Gordon and his men,
Coming riding to the town.
The dinner was not well set down,
Nor the grace was scarcely said,
Till Adam o Gordon and his men
About the walls were laid.
'It's fause now fa thee, Jock my man!
Thou might a let me be;
Yon man has lifted the pavement-stone,
An let in the low unto me.'
'Seven years I served thee, fair ladie,
You gave me meat and fee;
But now I am Adam o Gordon's man,
An maun either do it or die.'
'Come down, come down, my lady Loudoun,
Come down thou unto me!
I'll wrap thee on a feather-bed,
Thy warrand I shall be.'
'I'll no come down, I'll no come down,
For neither laird no[r] loun;
Nor yet for any bloody butcher
That lives in Altringham town.
'I would give the black,' she says,
'And so would I the brown,
If that Thomas, my only son,
Could charge to me a gun.'
Out then spake the lady Margaret,
As she stood on the stair;
The fire was at her goud garters,
The lowe was at her hair.
'I would give the black,' she says,
'And so would I the brown,
For a drink of yon water,
That runs by Galston Town.'
Out then spake fair Annie,
She was baith jimp and sma
'O row me in a pair o sheets,
And tow me down the wa!'
'O hold the tongue, thou fair Annie,
And let thy talkin be;
For thou must stay in this fair castle,
And bear thy death with me.'
'O mother,' spoke the lord Thomas,
As he sat on the nurse's knee,
'O mother, give up this fair castle,
Or the reek will worrie me.'
'I would rather be burnt to ashes sma,
And be cast on yon sea-foam,
Before I'd give up this fair castle,
And my lord so far from home.
'My good lord has an army strong,
He's now gone oer the sea;
He bad me keep this gay castle,
As long as it would keep me.
'I've four-and-twenty brave milk kye,
Gangs on yon lily lee;
I'd give them a' for a blast of wind,
To blaw the reek from me.'
O pittie on yon fair castle,
That's built with stone and lime!
But far mair pittie on Lady Loudoun,
And all her children nine!

G[edit]

IT was in and about the Martinmas time,
When the wind blew schill and cauld,
That Adam o Gordon said to his men,
Whare will we get a hauld?
'Do ye not see yon bonnie castell,
That stands on Loudon lee?
The lord and I hae a deadlie feed,
And his lady fain wuld I see.'
Lady Campbell was standing in the close,
A preenin o her goun,
Whan Adam o Gordon and his men
Cam riding thro Galston toun.
The dinner was na weel set doun,
Nor yet the grace weel said,
Till Adam o Gordon and a' his men
Around the wa's war laid.
'Come doun, come down, Ladie Campbell,' he said,
'Come doun and speak to me;
I'll kep thee in a feather bed,
And thy warraner I will be.'
'I winna come doun and speak to thee,
Nor to ony lord nor loun;
Nor yet to thee, thou bloody butcher,
The laird o Auchruglen toun.'
'Come doun, come doun, Ladye Campbell,' he said,
'Cum doun and speak to me;
I'll kep thee on the point o my sword,
And thy warraner I will be.'
'I winna come doun and speak to thee,
Nor to ony lord or loun,
Nor yet to thee, thou bludie butcher,
The laird o Auchruglen toun.'
'Syne gin ye winna come doun,' he said,
'A' for to speak to me,
I'll tye the bands around my waist,
And fire thy death sall be.'
'I'd leifer be burnt in ashes sma,
And cuist in yon sea-faem,
Or I'd gie up this bonnie castell,
And my gude lord frae hame.
'For my gude lord's in the army strong,
He's new gane ower the sea;
He bade me keep this bonnie castell,
As lang's it wuld keep me.'
'Set fire to the house,' said bauld Gordon,
'Set fire to the house, my men;
We'll gar Lady Campbell come for to rew
As she burns in the flame.'
'O wae be to thee, Carmichael,' she said,
'And an ilk death may ye die!
For ye hae lifted the pavement-stane,
And loot up the lowe to me.
'Seven years ye war about my house,
And received both meat and fee:'
'And now I'm Adam o Gordon's man,
I maun either do or dee.'
'Oh I wad gie the black,' she said,
'And I wuld gie the brown,
All for ae cup o the cauld water
That rins to Galstoun toun.'
Syne out and spak the auld dochter,
She was baith jimp and sma:
'O row me in a pair o sheets,
And fling me ower the wa!'
They row't her in a pair o sheets,
And flang her ower the wa,
And on the point o Gordon's sword
She gat a deadlie fa.
He turned her ower, and ower again,
And oh but she looked wan!
'I think I've killed as bonnie a face
As ere the sun shined on.'
He turned her ower, and ower again,
And oh but she lookt white!
'I micht hae spared this bonnie face,
To hae been some man's delight!'
Syne out and spak Lady Margaret,
As she stood on the stair:
'The fire is at my gowd garters,
And the lowe is at my hair.'
Syne out and spak fair Ladie Ann,
Frae childbed whare she lay:
'Gie up this bonnie castell, mother,
And let us win away.'
'Lye still, lye still, my fair Annie,
And let your talking be;
For ye maun stay in this bonnie castell
And dree your death wi me.'
'Whatever death I am to dree,
I winna die my lane:
I'll tak a bairn in ilka arm
And the third is in my wame.'
Syne out and spak her youngest son,
A bonnie wee boy was he:
'Gae doun, gae doun, mother,' he said,
'Or the lowe will worry me.'
'I'd leifer be brent in ashes sma
And cuist in yon sea-faem,
Or I'd gie up this bonnie castell,
And my guid lord frae hame.
'For my gude lord's in the army strong,
He's new gane ower the sea;
But gin he eer returns again,
Revenged my death sall be.'
Syne out and spak her waitin-maid:
Receive this babe frae me,
And save the saikless babie's life,
And I'll neer seek mair fee.
'How can I tak the bairn?' she said,
'How can I tak't?' said she,
'For my hair was ance five quarters lang,
And 'tis now brent to my bree.'
She rowit it in a feather-bed,
And flang it ower the wa,
But on the point o Gordon's sword
It gat a deidlie fa.
'I wuld gie Loudon's bonnie castell,
And Loudon's bonnie lee,
All gin my youngest son Johnnie
Could charge a gun to me.
'Oh, I wuld gie the black,' she said,
'And sae wuld I the bay,
Gin young Sir George could take a steed
And quickly ride away.'
Syne out and spak her auldest son,
As he was gaun to die:
'Send doun your chamber-maid, mother,
She gaes wi bairn to me.'
'Gin ye were not my eldest son,
And heir o a' my land,
I'd tye a sheet around thy neck,
And hang thee with my hand.
'I would gie my twenty gude milk-kye,
That feed on Shallow lee,
A' for ae blast o the norland wind,
To blaw the lowe frae me.'
Oh was na it a pitie o yon bonnie castell,
That was biggit wi stane and lime!
But far mair pity o Lady Ann Campbell,
That was brunt wi her bairns nine.
Three o them war married wives,
And three o them were bairns,
And three o them were leal maidens,
That neer lay in men's arms.
And now Lord Loudon he's come hame,
And a sorry man was he:
'He micht hae spared my lady's life,
And wreakit himsell on me!
'But sin we've got thee, bauld Gordon,
Wild horses shall thee tear,
For murdering o my ladie bricht,
Besides my children dear.'

H[edit]

It fell about the Martinmass time,
When the wind blew shill and cald,
That Adam McGordon said to his men,
Where will we get a hall?
'There is a hall here near by,
Well built with lime and stone;
There is a lady there within
As white as the . . bone.'
'Seven year and more this lord and I
Has had a deadly feud,
And now, since her good lord's frae hame,
His place to me she'll yield.'
She looked oer her castle-wall,
And so she looked down,
And saw Adam McGordon and his men
Approaching the wood-end.
'Steik up, steik up my yett,' she says,
'And let my draw-bridge fall;
There is meickle treachery
Walking about my wall.'
She had not the sentence past,
Nor yet the word well said,
When Adam McGordon and his men
About the walls were laid.
She looked out at her window,
And then she looked down,
And then she saw Jack, her own man,
Lifting the pavement-stane.
'Awa, awa, Jack my man!
Seven year I paid you meat and fee,
And now you lift the pavement-stane
To let in the low to me.'
'I yield, I yield, O lady fair,
Seven year ye paid me meat and fee;
But now I am Adam McGordon's man,
I must either do or die.'
'If ye be Adam McGordon's man,
As I true well ye be,
Prove true unto your own master,
And work your will to me.'
'Come down, come down, my lady Campbell,
Come down into my hand;
Ye shall lye all night by my side,
And the morn at my command.'
'I winna come down,' this lady says,
'For neither laird nor lown,
Nor to no bloody butcher's son,
The Laird of Auchindown.
'I wald give all my kine,' she says,
'So wald I fifty pound,
That Andrew Watty he were here;
He would charge me my gun.
'He would charge me my gun,
And put in bullets three,
That I might shoot that cruel traitor
That works his wills on me.'
He shot in, and [s]he shot out,
The value of an hour,
Until the hall Craigie North
Was like to be blawn in the air.
'He fired in, and she fired out,
The value of houris three,
Untill the hall Craigie North
The reik went to the sea.
'O the frost, and ae the frost,
The frost that freezes fell!
I cannot stay within my bower,
The powder it blaws sae bald.'
But then spake her oldest son,
He was both white and red;
'O mither dear, yield up your house!
We'll all be burnt to deed.'
Out then spake the second son,
He was both red and fair;
'O brother dear, would you yield up your house,
And you your father's heir!'
Out then spake the little babe,
Stood at the nurse's knee;
'O mither dear, yield up your house!
The reik will worry me.'
Out then speaks the little nurse,
The babe upon her knee;
'O lady, take from me your child!
I'll never crave my fee.'
'Hold thy tongue, thou little nurse,
Of thy prating let me bee;
For be it death or be it life,
Thou shall take share with me.
'I wald give a' my sheep,' she says,
'T[hat] . . yon . . s]ha],
I had a drink of that wan water
That runs down by my wa.'

I[edit]

It fell about the Martimas time,
Fan the wind blue loud an calld,
Said Edom of Gordon to his men,
We man dra till a hall.
'An fatten a hall will we dra tell,
My merry men a' an me?
We will to the house of Rothes,
An see that gay lady.'
The lady louked our castell-wa,
Beheld the day ga doun,
An she saa Edun of Gordon,
Fase Edom of Ach[en]doun.
'Gee our yer house, ye gay lady,
Gee our yer house to me;
The night ye's be my leall leman,
The morn my lady free.'
'I winn gee our my bonny house,
To leard nor yet to loun,
Nor will I gee our my bonny house
To fase Edom of Achendoun.
'Bat ye gett me Cluny, Gight, or Glack,
Or get him young Lesmore,
An I ell gee our my bonny house
To ony of a' the four.'
'Ye's nether gett Cluny, Gight, nor Glack,
Nor yet him young Lesmore,
An ye man gee our yer bonny house,
Winten ony of a' the four.'
The ladie shot out of a shot-windou,
It didne hurt his head,
It only grased his knee
. . . . . .
'Ye hast, my merry men a',
Gather hathorn an fune,
. . . . . . .
To see gin this lady will burn.'
'Wai worth ye, Joke, my man!
I paid ye well yer fee,
An ye tane out the quin -stane,
Laten in the fire to me.
'Wai worth ye, Joke, my man!
I paid ye well yer hair,
An ye t[a]en out the qunie-stane,
To me laten in the fire.'
'Ye paid me well my meatt, lady,
Ye paid me well my fee,
Bat nou I am Edom of Gordon's man,
Mane eather dee'd or dree.
'Ye paid me well my meatt, lady,
Ye paid me well my hire,
But nou I am Edom of Gordon's man,
To ye mane lat the fire.'
Out spak her doughter,
She was bath jimp an smaa;
'Ye take me in a pair of shets,
Lat me our the castell-waa.'
The pat her in a pair of shets,
Lute her oure the castell-waa;
On the point of Edom of Gordon's lance
She got a deadly faa.
Cherry, cherry was her cheeks,
An bonny was her eyen;
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .
He turned her about,
. . . . . . .
'I might haa spared that bonny face
To ha ben some man's delight.
'Chirry is yer chik,
An bonny is yer eayn;
Ye'r the first face I ever saa dead
I wist liveng agen.'
Out spak one of his men,
As he stad by a stane;
'Lat it never be sade brave Edom of Gordon
Was dantoned by a dame.'
Out spake the bonny barn,
Ti sat on the nurce's knee;
'Gee out yer house, my mider dear,
The reak it smothers me.'
'I wad gee a' my silks,' she says,
'That lays in mony a fall,
To haa ye on the head of Mont Gannell,
To gett three gasps of the call.
'I wad gee a' my goud,' she says,
'Far it lays out an in,
To haa ye on the head of Mount Ganill,
To get three gasps of the wind.'
. . . . . . . that gued lord,
As he came fraa the sea,
'I see the house of Rothes in fire,
God safe my gay ladie!'