Part 42

“I draw you to recorde, lords all:” With that he cast him god’s penny; Then he tooke to his bags of bread, And they were full of the gold so red.

He told him the gold then over the borde It wanted never a broad pennye; “That gold is thine, the land is mine, And the heire of Lynne againe I will bee.”

“Now well-a-day!” said John o’ the Scales’ wife, “Well-a-day, and woe is me! Yesterday I was the lady of Lynne, And now I am but John o’ the Scales wife!”

Says “have thou here, thou good fellow, Forty pence thou did lend me; Forty pence thou did lend me, And forty I will give thee, I’ll make thee keeper of my forrest, Both of the wild deere and the tame.”

But then bespake the heire of Lynne, These were the words and thus spake hee, “Christ’s curse light upon my crowne If ere my land stand in any jeopardye!”

GORDON OF BRACKLEY

DOWN Deeside cam Inveraye Whistlin’ and playing, An’ called loud at Brackley gate Ere the day dawning— “Come, Gordon of Brackley. Proud Gordon, come down, There’s a sword at your threshold Mair sharp than your own.”

“Arise now, gay Gordon,” His lady ’gan cry, “Look, here is bold Inveraye Driving your kye.” “How can I go, lady, An’ win them again, When I have but ae sword, And Inveraye ten?”

“Arise up, my maidens, Wi’ roke and wi’ fan, How blest had I been Had I married a man! Arise up, my maidens, Tak’ spear and tak’ sword, Go milk the ewes, Gordon, An’ I will be lord.”

The Gordon sprung up Wi’ his helm on his head, Laid his hand on his sword, An’ his thigh on his steed, An’ he stooped low, and said, As he kissed his young dame, “There’s a Gordon rides out That will never ride hame.”

There rode with fierce Inveraye Thirty and three, But wi’ Brackley were nane But his brother and he; Twa gallanter Gordons Did never blade draw, But against three-and-thirty Wae’s me! what are twa?

Wi’ sword and wi’ dagger They rushed on him rude; The twa gallant Gordons Lie bathed in their blude. Frae the springs o’ the Dee To the mouth o’ the Tay, The Gordons mourn for him, And curse Inveraye.

“O were ye at Brackley? An’ what saw ye there? Was his young widow weeping An’ tearing her hair?” “I looked in at Brackley, I looked in, and oh! There was mirth, there was feasting, But naething o’ woe.

“As a rose bloomed the lady, An’ blithe as a bride, As a bridegroom bold Inveraye Smiled by her side. Oh! she feasted him there As she ne’er feasted lord, While the blood of her husband Was moist on his sword.

“In her chamber she kept him Till morning grew gray, Thro’ the dark woods of Brackley She shewed him the way. ‘Yon wild hill,’ she said, ‘Where the sun’s shining on, Is the hill of Glentanner,— One kiss, and begone!’”

There’s grief in the cottage, There’s grief in the ha’, For the gude, gallant Gordon That’s dead an’ awa’. To the bush comes the bud, An’ the flower to the plain, But the gude and the brave They come never again.

EDWARD, EDWARD

“WHY does your brand sae drop wi’ blude, Edward, Edward? Why does your brand sae drop wi’ blude And why sae sad gang ye, O?” “O I hae killed my hawk sae gude, Mither, mither; O I hae killed my hawk sae gude, And I hae nae mair but he, O.”

“Your hawk’s blude was never sae red, Edward, Edward; Your hawk’s blude was never sae red, My dear son, I tell thee, O.” “O I hae killed my red-roan steed, Mither, mither; O I hae killed my red-roan steed, That was sae fair and free, O.”

“Your steed was auld, and ye’ve plenty mair, Edward, Edward; Your steed was auld, and ye’ve plenty mair; Some ither dule ye dree, O.” “O I hae killed my father dear, Mither, mither; O I hae killed my father dear, Alas, and wae is me, O!”

“And whatten penance will ye dree for that, Edward, Edward? Whatten penance will ye dree for that? My dear son, now tell me, O.” “I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, Mither, mither; I’ll set my feet in yonder boat, And I’ll fare over the sea, O.”

“And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’, Edward, Edward? And what will ye do wi’ your tow’rs and your ha’, That were sae fair to see, O?” “I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’, Mither, mither; I’ll let them stand till they doun fa’, For here never mair maun I be, O.”

“And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, When ye gang ower the sea, O?” “The warld’s room: let them beg through life, Mither, mither; The warld’s room: let them beg through life; For them never mair will I see, O.”

“And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, My dear son, now tell me, O?” “The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, Mither, mither; The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear: Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!”

YOUNG BENJIE

OF all the maids of fair Scotland, The fairest was Marjorie; And young Benjie was her ae true love, And a dear true love was he.

And wow but they were lovers dear, And lov’d full constantlie; But aye the mair when they fell out, The sairer was their plea.

And they ha’e quarrell’d on a day, Till Marjorie’s heart grew wae; And she said she’d chuse another luve, And let young Benjie gae.