Even as fast as he may dri'e,--
"O if young Logie be within,
Tell him to come and speak with me!"
(_drte_, drive).
May Margaret turn'd her round about,
(I wot a loud laugh laughed she,)--
"The egg is chipp'd, the bird is flown,
Ye'll see nae mair of young Logie."
The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith,
The t'other at the Queen's Ferry;
And she's gotten a father to her bairn,
The wanton laird of young Logie.
JOHNNIE OF BREADISLEE
|Johnnie rose up in a May morning,
Call'd for water to wash his hands--
"Gar loose to me the gude gray dogs,
That are bound wi' iron bands."
When Johnnie's mother gat word o' that,
Her hands for dule she wrang--
"O Johnnie! for my benison,
To the greenwood dinna gang!
"Enough ye hae o' gude wheat bread,
And enough o' the blood-red wine;
And therefore, for nae venison, Johnnie,
I pray ye, stir frae hame."
But Johnnie's busk'd up his gude bent bow,
His arrows, ane by ane,
And he has gane to Durrisdeer,
To hunt the dun deer down.
As he came down by Merriemass,
And in by the benty line,
There has he espied a deer lying
Aneath a bush of ling.
Johnnie he shot, and the dun deer lap,
And he wounded her on the side;
But atween the water and the brae,
His hounds they laid her pride.
And Johnnie has bryttled the deer sae weel,
That he's had out her liver and lungs;
And wi' these he has feasted his bluidy hounds,
As if they had been earl's sons.
They eat sae much o' the venison,
And drank sae much o' the blude,
That Johnnie and a' his bluidy hounds
Fell asleep as they had been dead.
And by there came a silly auld carle,
An ill death mote he die!
For he's awa' to Hislinton,
Where the seven Foresters did lie.
(_benty line,_ path covered with bent (?). _bryttled_, cut up. _carle_, churl.)
"What news, what news, ye gray-headed carle,
What news bring ye to me?"
"I bring nae news," said the gray-headed carle,
"Save what these eyes did see.
"As I came down by Merriemass,
And down among the scroggs,
The bonniest child that ever I saw
Lay sleeping amang his dogs.
"The shirt that was upon his back
Was o' the Holland fine;
The doublet which was over that
Was o' the Lincoln twine.
"The buttons that were on his sleeve
Were o' the goud sae gude;
The gude gray hounds he lay amang,
Their mouths were dyed wi' blude"
Then out and spak the First Forester
The head man ower them a'--
"If this be Johnnie o' Breadislee,
Nae nearer will we draw."
But up and spak the Sixth Forester,
(His sister's son was he,)
"If this be Johnnie o' Breadislee,
We soon shall gar him die."
(_scroggs,_ stunted trees.)
The first flight of arrows the Foresters shot,
They wounded him on the knee;
And out and spak the Seventh Forester,
"The next will gar him die."
Johnnies set his back against an aik,
His foot against a stane;
And he has slain the Seven Foresters,
He has slain them a' but ane.
He has broke three ribs in that ane's side,
But and his collar bane;
He's laid him twa-fald ower his steed,
Bade him carry the tidings hame.
"O is there nae a bonny bird
Can sing as I can say,
Could flee away to my mother's bower,
And tell to fetch Johnnie away?"
The starling flew to his mother's window stane,
It whistled and it sang;
And aye the ower word o' the tune
Was--"Johnnie tarries lang!"
They made a rod o' the hazel bush,
Another o' the sloe-thorn tree,
And mony mony were the men
At fetching o'er Johnnie.
(_aik,_ oak. _the ower word,_ the refrain.)
Then out and spake his auld mother,
And fast her tears did fa'--
"Ye wad nae be warn'd, my son Johnnie,
Frae the hunting to bide awa'.
'' Aft hae I brought to Breadislee
The less gear and the mair,
But I ne'er brought to Breadislee
What grieved my heart sae sair.
"But wae betide that silly auld carle!
An ill death shall he die!
For the highest tree in Merriemas
Shall be his morning's fee."
Now Johnnie's gude bend bow is broke,
And his gude gray dogs are slain;
And his body lies dead in Durrisdeer,
And his hunting it is done.
KINMONT WILLY
[Illustration: 0111]
|O have ye na heard o' the fause Sakelde?
O have ye na heard of the keen Lord Scroope?
How they hae taen bould Kinmont Willy,
On Haribee to hang him up?
Had Willy had but twenty men,
But twenty men as stout as he,
Fause Sakelde had never the Kinmont ta'en,
Wi' eight score in his company.
They band his legs beneath the steed,
They tied his hands behind his' back;
They guarded him, five some on each side,
And they brought him ower the Liddel-rack.
They led him thro' the Liddel-rack,
And also thro' the Carlisle sands;
They brought him to Carlisle castle,
To be at my Lord Scroope's commands.
(_band,_ bound.)
"My hands are tied, but my tongue is free,
And wha will dare this deed avow?
Or answer by the Border law?
Or answer to the bauld Buccleuch?"
"Now haud thy tongue, thou rank reiver!
There's never a Scot shall set thee free:
Before ye cross my castle yate,
I trow ye shall take farewell o' me."
"Fear na ye that, my lord," quo' Willy:
"By the faith o' my body, Lord Scroope," he said,
"I never yet lodged in a hostelry,
But I paid my lawing before I gaed."
Now word is gane to the bauld Keeper,
In Branksome Ha' where that he lay,
That Lord Scroope has ta'en the Kinmont Willy,
Between the hours of night and day.
He has ta'en the table wi' his hand,
He gar'd the red wine spring on high--
"Now Christ's curse on my head," he said,
"But avenged of Lord Scroope I'll be!
"O is my basnet a widow's curch?
Or my lance a wand of the willow-tree?
Or my arm a lady's lily hand,
That an English lord should lightly me!
(_reiver_, robber. _yate_, gate. _lawing,_ reckoning. _basnet_, helmet. _curch_, kerchief.)
"And have they ta en him, Kinmont Willy,
Against the truce of Border tide,
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch
Is keeper there on the Scottish side?
"And have they e en ta en him, Kinmont Willy,
Withouten either dread or fear,
And forgotten that the bauld Buccleuch
Can back a steed, or shake a spear?
"O were there war between the lands,
As well I wot that there is none,
I would slight Carlisle castle high,
Though it were builded of marble stone.
"I would set that castle in a low,
And sloken it with English blood!
There's never a man in Cumberland,
Should ken where Carlisle castle stood.
"But since nae war's between the lands,
And there is peace, and peace should be;
I'll neither harm English lad or lass,
And yet the Kinmont freed shall be!"
He has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld,
I trow they were of his ain name,
Except Sir Gilbert Elliot, call'd
The Laird of Stobs, I mean the same.
(_slight_, i.e., make little of. _sloken_, slake.)
He has call'd him forty Marchmen bauld,
Were kinsmen to the bauld Buccleuch;
With spur on heel, and splent on spauld,
And gloves of green, and feathers blue.
There were five and five before them a',
Wi' hunting-horns and bugles bright:
And five and five came wi' Buccleuch,
Like warden's men, array'd for fight.
And five and five, like a mason-gang,
That carried the ladders lang and high;
And five and five, like broken men;
And so they reach'd the Woodhouselee.
And as we cross'd the Bateable Land,
When to the English side we held,
The first o' men that we met wi',
Wha should it be but fause Sakelde?
"Where be ye gaun, ye hunters keen?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell to me!"
"We go to hunt an English stag,
Has trespass'd on the Scots country."
"Where be ye gaun, ye marshal-men?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "come tell me true!
"We go to catch a rank reiver,
Has broken faith wi' the bauld Buccleuch.'
(_splent_, armour. _spauld_, shoulder.)
"Where are ye gaun, ye mason lads,
Wi' a' your ladders lang and high?"
"We gang to herry a corbie's nest,
That wons not far frae Woodhouselee."
"Where be ye gaun, ye broken men?"
Quo' fause Sakelde; "Come tell to me!"
Now Dicky of Dry hope led that band,
And the never a word of lear had he.
"Why trespass ye on the English side?
Row-footed outlaws, stand!" quo' he;
Then never a word had Dicky to say,
Sae he thrust the lance through his fause body.
Then on we held for Carlisle toun,
And at Staneshaw-bank the Eden we cross'd;
The water was great and mickle of spate,
But the never a horse nor man we lost.
And when we reach'd the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind was rising loud and high;
And there the Laird gar'd leave our steeds,
For fear that they should stamp and neigh.
And when we left the Staneshaw-bank,
The wind began full loud to blaw;
But 'twas wind and weet, and fire and sleet,
When we came beneath the castle wa'.
(_herry_, harry. _wons_, dwells. _ lear,_ lying. _row-footed_, rough-footed.)
We crept on knees, and held our breath,
Till we placed the ladders against the wa';
And sae ready was Buccleuch himsel'
To mount the first before us a'.
He has taen the watchman by the throat,
He flung him down upon the lead--
"Had there not been peace between our lands,
Upon the other side thou hadst gaed!
"Now sound out, trumpets!" quo' Buccleuch;
"Let's waken Lord Scroope right merrily!"
Then loud the wardens trumpet blew--
_O wha dare meddle wi' me?_
Then speedily to wark we gaed,
And raised the slogan ane and a',
And cut a hole through a sheet of lead,
And so we wan to the castle ha'.
They thought King James and a' his men
Had won the house wi' bow and spear;
It was but twenty Scots and ten,
That put a thousand in sic a stear!
Wi' coulters, and wi' forehammers,
We gar'd the bars bang merrily,
Until we came to the inner prison,
Where Willy o' Kinmont he did lie.
(_forehammers_, sledge-hammers. _stear_, stir. _slogan,_ war-cry.)
And when we came to the lower prison,
Where Willy o' Kinmont he did lie--
"O sleep ye, wake ye, Kinmont Willy,
Upon the morn that thou's to die?"
"O I sleep saft, and I wake aft,
It's lang since sleeping was fley'd frae me;
Gie my service back to my wife and bairns,
And a' gude fellows that speer for me."
Then Red Rowan has hente him up,
The starkest man in Teviotdale--
"Abide, abide now, Red Rowan,
Till of my Lord Scroope I take farewell.
"Farewell, farewell, my gude Lord Scroope!
My gude Lord Scroope, farewell!" he cried--
"I'll pay you for my lodging mail,
When first we meet on the Border side."
Then shoulder high, with shout and cry,
We bore him down the ladder lang:
At every stride Red Rowan made,
I wot the Kinmont's airns play'd clang.
"O mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willy,
"I have ridden horse baith wild and wood;
But a rougher beast than Red Rowan
I ween my legs have ne'er bestrode.
(_hente_, caught. _fley'd,_ frightened. _starkest,_ strongest. _airns_, irons.)
"And mony a time," quo' Kinmont Willy,
"I've prick'd a horse out ower the furs;
But since the day I back'd a steed,
I never wore sic cumbrous spurs."
We scarce had won the Staneshaw-bank,
When a' the Carlisle bells were rung,
And a thousand men on horse and foot
Came wi' the keen Lord Scroope along.
Buccleuch has turn'd to Eden Water,
Even where it flow'd frae bank to brim,
And he has plunged in wi' a' his band,
And safely swam them through the stream.
He turn'd him on the other side,
And at Lord Scroope his glove flung he--
"If ye like na my visit in merry England,
In fair Scotland come visit me!"
All sore astonish'd stood Lord Scroope,
He stood as still as rock of stane;
He scarcely dared to trew his eyes,
When through the water they had gane.
He is either himsel' a devil frae hell,
Or else his mother a witch maun be;
"I wadna hae ridden that wan water
For a' the gowd in Christianty."
(_furs_, furrows. _trew_, trust.)
THE DROWNED LOVERS
|Ye gie corn unto my horse,
An' meat unto my man;
For I will gae to my true love's gates
This night, that I can win."
"O stay at hame this ae night, Willy,
This ae bare night wi' me;
The best bed in a' my house
Shall be well made to thee."
"I carena for your beds, mither,
I carena a pin;
For I'll gae to my love's gates
This night, gin I can win."
4 Oh stay, my son Willy, this night,
This ae night wi' me;
The best hen in a' my roost
Shall be well made ready for thee."
"I carena for your hens, mither,
I carena a pin;
I shall gae to my love's gates
This night, gin I can win."
"Gin ye winna stay, my son Willy,
This ae bare night wi' me,
Gin Clyde's water's be deep and fu' o' flood,
My malison drown thee!"
He rade up yon high hill,
And down yon dowie den,
The roaring of Clyde's water
Wad hae fleyed ten thousand men.
"O spare me, Clyde's water,
O spare me as I gae!
Mak' me your wrack as I come back,
But spare me as I gae!"
He rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to the chin;
And he rade in, and farther in,
Till he came to dry land.
And when he came to his love's gates,
He tirled at the pin.
"Open your gates, Meggie,
Open your gates to me;
For my boots are fu' o' Clyde's water
And the rain rains ower my chin."
"I hae nae lovers thereout," she says,
"I hae nae love within;
My true-love is in my arms twa,
An' nane will I let in."
(_den_, hollow.)
"Open your gates, Meggie, this ae night,
Open your gates to me;
For Clydes water is fu' o' flood,
And my mother's malison 'll drown me."
"Ane o' my chambers is fu' o' corn,
An ane is fu' o' hay;
Another is fu' o' gentlemen;--
An' they winna move till day."
Out waked her may Meggie,
Out of her drowsy dream.
"I dreamed a dream sin the yestreen,
God read a' dreams to guid,
That my true love Willy
Was staring at my bed-feet."
"Lay still, lay still, my ae dochter,
An keep my back frae the call,
For it's na the space o' half an hour,
Sen he gaed frae your hall.''
An' hey Willy, and hoa, Willy,
Winna ye turn agen;
But aye the louder that she cried,
He rade against the win'.
He rade up yon high hill,
And doun yon dowie den;
The roaring that was in Clyde's water,
Wad ha fleyed ten thousand men.
(_read_ explain. _call_, cold.)
He rade in, an' farther in,
Till he came to the chin;
An' he rade in, an' further in,
But never mair was seen.
*****
There was na mair seen o' that guid lord,
But his hat frae his head;
There was na more seen of that lady,
But her comb and her snood.
There waders went up and doun,
Eddying Clyde's water;
Have done us wrang.
THE TWA BROTHERS
|There were twa brethren in the north,
They went to the school together;
The one unto the other said
Will ye try a warsle afore?
They warsled up, they warsled down,
Till Sir John fell to the ground;
And there was a knife in Sir William's pouch,
Gi ed him a deadly wound.
(_warsle_, wrestle.)
"O brither dear, take me upon your back,
Carry me to yon burn clear,
And wash the blood from off my wound,
And it will bleed nae mair."
He's took him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon burn clear,
And wash'd the blood from off his wound,
But aye it bled the mair.
"Oh brither dear, take me on your back,
Carry me to yon kirk-yard,
And dig a grave baith wide and deep,
And lay my body there."
He's ta'en him up upon his back,
Carried him to yon kirkyard,
And dug a grave baith deep and wide,
And laid his body there.
"But what will I say to your father dear,
Gin he chance to say, Willy, where's John?"
"O say that he's to England gone,
To buy him a cask of wine."
"And what will I say to my mother dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willy, where's John?"
"Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy her a new silk gown."
"And what will I say to my sister dear,
Gin she chance to say, Willy, where's John?"
"Oh say that he's to England gone,
To buy her a wedding ring."
"But what shall I say to her you love dear,
Gin she cry, why tarries my John?"
"Oh tell her I lie in Kirkland fair,
And home again will never come."
THE LAIRD OF WARISTOUN
|Down by yon garden green
Sae merrily as she gaes;
She has twa weel-made feet,
And she trips upon her taes.
She has twa weel-made feet;
Far better is her hand;
She's as jimp in the middle
As ony willow-wand.
"Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be,
It's I will make you lady
Of a the lands you see."
He spak a word in jest;
Her answer wasna good;
He threw a plate at her face,
Made it a' gush out o' blood.
She wasna frae her chamber
A step but barely three,
When up and at her right hand
There stood Man's Enemy.
"Gif ye will do my bidding,
At my bidding for to be;
I'll learn you a wile
Avenged for to be."
The Foul Thief knotted the tether;
She lifted his head on high;
The nourice drew the knot
That gar'd lord Waristoun die.
Then word is gane to Leith,
Also to Edinburgh town,
That the lady had kill'd the laird,
The laird o' Waristoun.
"Tak aff, tak aff my hood,
But lat my petticoat be;
Put my mantle o'er my head;
For the fire I daurna see.
"Now, a ye gentle maids,
Tak warning now by me,
And never marry ane
But wha pleases your e'e.
"For he married me for love,
But I married him for fee;
And sae brak out the feud
That gar'd my deary die."
YOUNG BEICHAN AND SUSIE
[Illustration: 9126]
|In London city was Beichan born,
He longed strange countries for to see;
But he was ta en by a savage Moor,
Who handled him right cruelly;
For through his shoulder he put a bore;
And through the bore has putten a tree;
And he's gar'd him draw the carts of wine
Where horse and oxen had wont to be.
He's casten [him] in a dungeon deep,
Where he could neither hear nor see;
He's shut him up in a prison strong,
And he's handled him right cruelly.
O this Moor he had but ae daughter,
I wot her name was Susie Pye;
She doen her to the prison house,
And she's called young Beichan one word by.
"O have ye any lands, or rents,
Or cities in your own country,
Could free you out of prison strong,
And could maintain a lady free?"
"O London city is my own,
And other cities twa or three,
Could loose me out of prison strong,
And could maintain a lady free"
O she has brib'd her father's men
Wi' mickle gold and white money;
She's gotten the keys of the prison door
And she has set young Beichan free.
(_bore_, hole. _tree_, pole. _free_, noble.)
She's gi en him a loaf of good white bread,
But an' a flask of Spanish wine;
And she bad him mind on the lady's love
That sae kindly freed him out of pine.
[Illustration: 9128]
"Go set your foot on good ship-board,
And haste ye back to your own country;
And before that seven years have an end,
Come back again, love, and marry me."
It was long ere seven years had an end,
She long'd full sore her love to see;
She's set her foot on good shipboard,
And turn'd her back on her own country.
She's sailed up, so has she doun,
Till she came to the other side;
She's landed at young Beichan's
gates,
An I hope this day she shall be his bride.
"Is this young Beichan's gates," says she,
"Or is that noble prince within?"
"He's up the stairs wi' his bonny bride,
An mony a lord and lady wi him."
(_pinge_, woe.0
"And has he ta'en a bonny bride?
An' has he clean forgotten me?"
An', sighin', said that gay lady,
"I wish I were in my own country."
But she's putten her han' in her pocket,
An' gien the porter guineas three;
Says, "take ye that, ye proud porter,
An' bid the bridegroom speak to me."
O when the porter came up the stair,
He's fa'n low down upon his knee--
"Win up, win up, ye proud porter,
And what makes a' this courtesy?"
"O I've been porter at your gates,
This mair nor seven years and three;
But there is a lady at them now,
The like of whom I never did see;
"For on every finger she has a ring,
And on the mid finger she has three;
And as mickle gold aboon her brow
As would buy an earldom o' Lan' to me."
Then up it started Young Beichan,
An' swear so loud by our Lady,
"It can be nane but Susie Pye,
That has come o'er the sea to me.
(_win up_, get up.)
And quickly ran he down the stair;
Of fifteen steps he has made but three;
He's ta'en his bonny love in his arms,
And I wot he kissed her tenderly.
"O hae ye taen a bonny bride?
And hae ye quite forsaken me?
And hae ye quite forgotten her,
That gave you life and liberty?"
She looked o'er her left shoulder,
To hide the tears stood in her e'e:
"Now fare thee well, young Beichan," she says,
"I'll try to think no more on thee,"
"Take back your daughter, madam," he says,
"An' a double dowry I'll gie her wi';
For I maun marry my first true love,
That's done and suffered so much for me."
He's ta'en his bonny love by the hand,
And led her to yon fountain stane;
He's changed her name from Susie Pye,
And he's call'd her his bonny love, Lady Jane.
LIZZIE LINDSAY
|Out it spake Lizzie Lindsay,
The tear blinket in her ee;
How can I leave father and mother,
Along with young Donald to gae.
Out spak Lizzie's young handmaid,
A bonny young lassie was she;
Said,--"were I heiress to a kingdom,
Along wi' young Donald I'd gae."
"O say you so to me, Nelly?
O say ye so to me?
Must I leave Edinburgh city,
To the high Highland to gae?"
Out spak Lizzie's own mother,
A good old lady was she,
"If ye speak sic a word to my daughter,
I'll gar hang ye high."
"Keep weel your daughter frae me, madam;
Keep weel your daughter frae me;
I care as little for your daughter,
As ye can care for me."
The road grew wetty and dubby;
And Lizzie began to think lang;
Said, "I wish I had stayed with my mother,
And na wi' young Donald had gone."
"Yere welcome hame, Sir Donald;
Yere welcome hame to me;
Yere welcome hame, Sir Donald,
And your bonny young lady wi' ye."
"Ye call na me Sir Donald,
But ca me Donald your son."
"Rise up, Lizzie Lindsay,
You have lain too long in the day;
You might have helped my mother
To milk her goats and her kye."
Out it spake Lizzie Lindsay,
The tear blinket her eye;
"The ladies o' Edinburgh city
They neither milk goats nor kye."
(_dubby_, full of puddles.)
THE BIRTH OF ROBIN HOOD
|O Willys large o' limb and lith,
And come o' high degree,
And he is gone to Earl Richard
To serve for meat and fee.
Earl Richard had but ae daughter,
Fair as a lily flower;
And they made up their love-contract
Like proper paramour.
It fell upon a simmer's night,
When the leaves were fair and green,
That Willy met his gay lady,
Intill the wood alane.
"O narrow is my gown, Willy,
That wont to be sae wide;
And gane is a' my fair colour,
That wont to be my pride.
"But gin my father should get word
What's past between us twa,
Before that he should eat or drink,
He'd hang you o'er that wa'.
(_lith_, joint.)
"But ye'll come to my bower, Willy,
Just as the sun goes down;
And keep me in your arms twa,
And latna me fa' down."
O when the sun was now gane down,
He's doen him till her bower;
And there, by the lee light o' the moon,
Her window she lookit o'er.
Intill a robe o' red scarlet
She lap, fearless o' harm;
And Willy was large o' lith and limb,
And keepit her in his arm.
And they've gane to the gude green-wood,
And ere the night was deen,
She's borne to him a bonny young son,
Amang the leaves sae green.
Whan night was gane, and day was come,
And the sun began to peep,
Up and raise the Earl Richard
Out o' his drowsy sleep.
He's ca'd upon his merry young men,
By ane, by twa, and by three,
"O what's come o' my daughter dear,
That she's na come to me?
(_lee_, sad. _deen_, done.)
"I dreamt a dreary dream last night,
God grant it come to gude!
I dreamt I saw my daughter dear,
Drown in the saut sea flood.
"But gin my daughter be dead or sick,
Or yet be stown awa,
I mak a vow, and I'll keep it true,
I'll hang ye ane and a!"
They sought her back, they sought her fore,
They sought her up and down;
They got her in the gude green wood,
Nursing her bonny young son.
He took the bonny boy in his arms,
And kissed him tenderly;
Says, "Though I would your father hang,
Your mother's dear to me."
He kissed him oer and o'er again;
"My grandson I thee claim;
And Robin Hood in gude green wood,
And that shall be your name."
And mony ane sings o' grass, o' grass,
And mony ane sings o' corn;
And mony ane sings o' Robin Hood,
Kens little where he was born.
It was na in the ha', the ha',
Nor in the painted bower;
But it was in the gude green wood,
Amang the lily flower.
THE BARON OF BRACKLEY
|Down Dee side came Inverey whistling and playing;
He's lighted at Brackley yates at the day dawing.
Says, "Baron o' Brackley, O are ye within?
There's sharp swords at the y ate will gar your blood spin."
The lady raise up, to the window she went;
She heard her kye lowing o'er hill and o'er bent.
"O rise up, ye baron, and turn back your kye;
For the lads o' Drumwharran are driving them
by."
"How can I rise, lady, or turn them again!
Where'er I have ae man, I wot they hae ten."
"Then rise up, my lasses, take rocks in your hand,
And turn back the kye;--I hae you at command.
(_bent_, plain. _rocks_, distaffs.)
"Gin I had a husband, as I hae nane,
He wadna lie in his bower, see his kye ta en."
-
Then up got the baron, and cried for his graith;
Says, "Lady, I'll gang, tho' to leave you I'm laith.
"Come, kiss me,then,Peggy,and gieme my spear;
I ay was for peace, though I never fear'd weir.
"Come, kiss me, then, Peggy, nor think I'm to
blame;
I weel may gae out, but I'll never win in!"
When Brackley was busked, and rade o'er the closs,
A gallanter baron ne'er lap to a horse.
When Brackley was mounted, and rade o'er the green,
He was as bold a baron as ever was seen.
Tho' there cam' wi' Inverey thirty and three,
There was nane wi' bonny Brackley but his brother and he.