| 1 |
Ye dukes and lords that hunt and go
Out-over moors and mountains clear,
And they have taen up poor Hughie Gra+eme,
For stealing of the bishope's mare. |
| 1b |
Fall all the day, fall all the daudy,
Fall all the day, fall the daudy O. |
| 2 |
They hae tied him hand and foot,
They hae led him thro the town;
The lads and lassies they all met,
Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, ye've playd the loon! |
| 3 |
'O if that I had playd the loon,
My friends of me they hae bad luck;'
With that he jumped fifteen feet,
Wi his hands tied fast behind his back. |
| 4 |
Up then spoke my lady Whiteford,
As she sat by the bishope's knee;
'Five hundred white pence I'll give thee,
If you let Hughie Gra+eme go free.' |
| 5 |
'I'll hae nane of your hundred pense,
And your presents you may lay by;
For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat,
By my honour, Hugh shall die.' |
| 6 |
Up then spoke my lord Whiteford,
As he sat by the bishope's knee;
'Five score of good stotts I'll thee give,
If you'll sett Hughie Gra+eme but free.' |
| 7 |
'I'll have none of your hundred stotts,
And all your presents you may keep to yoursell;
'For if Gra+eme was ten times in his coat
Hugh shall die, and die he shall.' |
| 8 |
Then they hae tied him hand and foot,
And they hae led [him] to the gallows high;
The lads and lassies they all met,
Cried, Hughie Gra+eme, thou art to die! |
| 9 |
Now's he looked oer his left shoulder,
All for to see what he could spy,
And there he saw his father dear,
Stood weeping there most bitterlie. |
| 10 |
'O hold your tongue now, father,' he said,
'And of your weeping lai'd now by;
For they can rob me of my life,
But they cannot rob me of the heavens high. |
| 11 |
'But you must give to my brother John
The sword that's bent in the middle clear,
And tell him to come at twelve o clock
And see me pay the bishope's mare. |
| 12 |
'And you may give to my brother James
The sword that's bent in the middle brown,
And tell him to come at four o clock
And see his brother Hugh cut down. |
| 13 |
'And you may tell to Meg, my wife,
The first time she comes thro the town,
She was the occasion of my death
And wi the bishope playd the loon. |
| 14 |
'And you may tell to Meg, my wife,
The first time she comes thro the fair,
She was the occasion of my death,
And from the bishope stole the mare.' |
