Part 6

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. 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. 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. 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 thou be a 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. 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.

[Annotations: 5.2: 'bully,' = billie, brother. See page 75. 24.2: 'belive,' soon. 26.2: 'farleys,' wonders, novelties. 48.1: 'moudie-hill,' mole-hill.]

THE FIRE OF FRENDRAUGHT

+The Text+ is from Motherwell's _Minstrelsy_. He received the ballad from Charles Kirkpatrick Sharp. In Maidment's _North Countrie Garland_ there 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 to sacrifice '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.

THE FIRE OF FRENDRAUGHT

1. The eighteenth 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. '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.'

[Annotations: 16.4: 'twin,' part.]

GEORDIE

+The Text+ is from Johnson's _Museum_, 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.

GEORDIE

1. There was 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. 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. '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. 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!'

[Annotations: 1.4: 'wyte,' blame. 3.4: 'wallowt,' drooped. 4.2: 'menyie,' attendants. 14.3: 'bouk,' body. 14.4: 'Or,' ere; 'tint,' lost.]

THE BARON OF BRACKLEY

+The Text+ is from Alexander Laing's _Scarce Ancient Ballads_ (1822). A similar version occurs in Buchan's _Gleanings_ (1825). Professor Gummere, in printing the first text, omits six stanzas, on the assumption that they represent part of a second ballad imperfectly incorporated. But I think the ballad can be read as it stands below, though doubtless 'his ladie's' remark, st. 11, is out of place.

+The Story+ seems to be a combination of at least two. An old Baron of Brackley, 'an honest aged man,' was slain in 1592 by 'caterans' or freebooters who had been entertained hospitably by him. In 1666 John Gordon of Brackley began a feud with John Farquharson of Inverey by seizing some cattle or horses--accounts differ--by way of fines due for taking fish out of season. This eventually led to the slaying of Brackley and certain of his adherents.

Professor Child suspects a commixture of the two episodes in the one ballad, or more probably, a grafting of a later ballad on to an earlier one. The character of the Baron as revealed in the ballad more closely resembles that of the 1592 episode, while the details of the fray are in keeping with the later story.

'Peggy,' the Baron's wife, was Margaret Burnet, cousin to Gilbert, Bishop of Salisbury. After Brackley's death she married again, but not her husband's murderer, as the end of our ballad scandalously suggests.

Brackley is near Ballater, about forty miles west of Aberdeen.

THE BARON OF BRACKLEY

1. Inverey cam doun Deeside, whistlin' and playin', He was at brave Braikley's yett ere it was dawin'.

2. He rappit fu' loudly an' wi' a great roar, Cried, 'Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door.

3. 'Are ye sleepin', Baronne, or are ye wakin'? Ther's sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin.

4. 'Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within, Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.'

5. Out spak the brave baronne, owre the castell-wa'; 'Are ye cum to spulyie and plunder mi ha'?

6. 'But gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum in: Gin ye drink o' my wine, ye'll nae gar my bluid spin.

7. 'Gin ye be hir'd widifu's, ye may gang by, Ye may gang to the lowlands and steal their fat ky.

8. 'Ther spulyie like rievers o' wyld ketterin clan, Who plunder unsparing baith houses and lan'.

9. 'Gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum [in], Ther's meat and drink i' my ha' for every man.

10. 'Gin ye be hired widifu's, ye may gang by, Gang doun to the lowlands, and steal horse and ky.'

11. Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay, 'Get up, get up, Braikley, an be not afraid; The'r but young hir'd widifu's wi' belted plaids.'

12. 'Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I'le nae langer stay, For I will go out and meet Inverey.

13. 'But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din, For yon same hir'd widifu's will prove themselves men.'

14. She called on her marys, they cam to her hand; Cries, 'Bring me your rocks, lassies, we will them command.

15. 'Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky, Or me and mi women will them defy.

16. 'Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play; We'll ficht them, and shortly the cowards will fly.

17. 'Gin I had a husband, whereas I hae nane, He woud nae ly i' his bed and see his ky taen.

18. 'Ther's four-and-twenty milk-whit calves, twal o' them ky, In the woods o' Glentanner, it's ther thei a' ly.

19. 'Ther's goat i' the Etnach, and sheep o' the brae, An a' will be plunder'd by young Inverey.'

20. 'Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me a gun, Ye'll see me gae furth, but I'll never cum in.

21. 'Call mi brother William, mi unkl also, Mi cousin James Gordon; we'll mount and we'll go.'

22. When Braikley was ready and stood i' the closs, He was the bravest baronne that e'er mounted horse.

23. Whan all wer assembled o' the castell green, No man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen.

24. ... ... ... 'Turn bak, brother William, ye are a bridegroom;

25. 'Wi' bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o' the mill; O' sichin' and sobbin' she'll soon get her fill.'

26. 'I'm no coward, brother, 'tis ken'd I'm a man; I'll ficht i' your quarral as lang's I can stand.

27. 'I'll ficht, my dear brother, wi' heart and gudewill, And so will young Harry that lives at the mill.

28. 'But turn, mi dear brother, and nae langer stay: What'll cum o' your ladie, gin Braikley thei slay?

29. 'What'll cum o' your ladie and bonnie young son? O what'll cum o' them when Braikley is gone?'

30. 'I never will turn: do you think I will fly? But here I will ficht, and here I will die.'

31. 'Strik, dogs,' crys Inverey, 'and ficht till ye're slayn, For we are four hundred, ye are but four men.

32. 'Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honour is gone, Your lands we will plunder, your castell we'll burn.'

33. At the head o' the Etnach the battel began, At Little Auchoilzie thei kill'd the first man.

34. First thei kill'd ane, and soon they kill'd twa, Thei kill'd gallant Braikley, the flour o' them a'.

35. Thei kill'd William Gordon, and James o' the Knox, And brave Alexander, the flour o' Glenmuick.

36. What sichin' and moaning was heard i' the glen, For the Baronne o' Braikley, who basely was slayn!

37. 'Cam ye bi the castell, and was ye in there? Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?'

38. 'Yes, I cam by Braikley, and I gaed in there, And there saw his ladie braiding her hair.

39. 'She was rantin', and dancin', and singin' for joy, And vowin' that nicht she woud feest Inverey.

40. 'She eat wi' him, drank wi' him, welcom'd him in, Was kind to the man that had slain her baronne.'

41. Up spake the son on the nourice's knee, 'Gin I live to be a man, revenged I'll be.'