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Hughie Grame (Hughie the Graeme)

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Hughie Grame (Hughie the Graeme)

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Hughie Grame (Hughie the Graeme)

The Laird o' Hume he's a huntin' gone
Over the hills and mountains clear,
And he has ta'en Sir Hugh the Grame
For stealin' o' the Bishop's mear.

cho: Tay ammarey, O Londonderry
     Tay ammarey, O London dee.

They hae ta'en Sir Hugh the Grame
And led him doon through Strievling toon,
Fifteen o' them cried oot at ance,
"Sir Hugh the Grame he must gae doon!"

"Were I to die," said Hugh the Grame
"My parents would think it a very great lack"
Full fifteen feet in the air he jumped
Wi' his hands bound fast behind his back.
Then oot and spak the Lady Black,
And o' her will she was right free,
"A thousand pounds, my lord, I'll give
If Hugh the Grame set free to me."

"Haud your tongue, ye Lady Black
And ye'll let a' your pleading be!
Though ye would gie me thousands ten
It's for my honour he would die."

Then oot it spak her Lady Hume
And aye a sorry woman was she,
"I'll gie ye a hundred milk-white steeds
Gin ye'll gie Sir Hugh the Grame to me."

"O Haud your tongue, ye Lady Hume
And ye'll let a' your pleading be!
Though a' the Grames were in this court,
He should be hanged high for me."
He lookit ower his left shoulder
It was to see what he could see,
And there he saw his auld faither
Weeping and wailing bitterly.

"O, haud your tongue, my auld faither
And ye'll let a' your mournin' be!
For if they bereave me o' my life
They canna haud the heavens frae me."

"You'll gie my brother, John, the sword
That's pointed with the metal clear,
And bid him come at eight o'clock
And see me pay the Bishop'e mear."

"And brother James, tak' here the sword
That's pointed wi' the metal brown
Come up the morn at eight o'clock
And see your brother putten down."

Ye'll tell this news to Maggie, my wife
Neist time ye gang to Strievling toon,
She is the cause I lose my life
She wi' the Bishop played the loon.

Child #191
From MacColl, Folksongs and Ballads of Scotland
Recorded by MacColl
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