The lady stood on her castle wa', There she was aware of a host of men 'O see ye not, my merry men a', She ween'd it had been her lovely lord, It was the traitor, Edom o' Gordon, She had na sooner buskit hersell, They had nae sooner supper set, The lady ran up to her tower-head, 'Come doun to me, ye lady gay, 'I winna come down, ye fause Gordon, 1 Town is used in Scotland for any country house or farm-buildings. 'Gie owre your house, ye lady fair, 'I winna gie owre, ye fause Gordon, 'Now reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher, She stood upon her castle wa', She miss'd that bluidy butcher's heart, And only razed his knee. 'Set fire to the house!' quo' fause Gordon, Wud wi' dule and ire: 'Faus ladye, ye sall rue that shot As ye burn in the fire!' 'Wae worth, wae worth ye, Jock, my man! I paid ye weel your fee; Why pu' ye out the grund-wa' stane, Lets in the reek to me? 'And e'en wae worth ye, Jock, my man! I paid ye weel your hire; Why pu' ye out the grund-wa' stane, 'Ye paid me weel my hire, ladye, Ye paid me weel my fee: But now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man,- O then bespake her little son, Sat on the nurse's knee : Says, 'O mither dear, gie owre this house, For the reek it smothers me.' 'I wad gie a' my goud, my bairn, For ae blast o' the western wind, O then bespake the daughter dear,- They row'd her in a pair o' sheets, O bonnie, bonnie was her mouth, Then wi' his spear he turn'd her owre; He said, 'Ye are the first that e'er I wish'd alive again.' He cam and lookit again at her; 'I might hae spared that bonnie face 'Busk and boun, my merry men a', 'Wha looks to freits, my master dear, Its freits will follow them; Let it ne'er be said that Edom o' Gordon Was daunted by a dame.' But when the ladye saw the fire She wept, and kiss'd her children twain, The Gordon then his bugle blew, And said, 'Awa', awa'! This house o' the Rodes is a' in a flame; I hauld it time to ga'.' And this way lookit her ain dear lord, As he came owre the lea; He saw his castle a' in a lowe, Sae far as he could see. 'Put on, put on, my wighty men, As fast as ye can dri'e! For he that's hindmost o' the thrang Sall ne'er get good o' me.' Then some they rade, and some they ran, But ere the foremost could win up, And after the Gordon he is gane, And soon i' the Gordon's foul heart's blude ROMANTIC. GLASGERION. [Glasgerion, or Kurion the Pale, was a Celtic minstrel, whom Chaucer places in the company of such bards as 'blind Thamyris and blind Maeonides.' This ballad exists in the Scotch version of Glenkindie (Jamieson, i. 93). It is here printed from Percy's Reliques, Bohn's Ed.] Glasgerion was a kings owne sonne, And soe did hee in the queens chambere, And then bespake the kinges daughter, 'Strike on, strike on, Glasgerion, 'Faire might he fall,' quoth hee, 'Who taught you nowe to speake! I have loved you, ladye, seven longe yeere, 'But come to my bower, my Glasgerion, As I am a ladie true of my promise, Home then came Glasgerion, A glad man, lord! was hee: 'And, come thou hither, Jacke my boy, |