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de Traditional

When the muirmen whin their hay
The doughty Douglas bound him ride
Into England to drive a prey
He chose the Gordons and the Grahams
The Lindsays light and gay
But the Jardines wad' not wi' him ride
And they rue it to this day

Now he has burned all the dales o' Tyne
And part o' Bamburghshire
Three tall towers on Reedswire fells
He left them all on fire
He marched up tae Newcastle
And raided round about
Sayin' "Wha's the Lord o' this castle
And wha's the Lady o't?"

Then up bespake proud Percy there
And oh but he spake high
"I am the Lord o' this castle
My wife's the Lady gay"
"If thou art the Lord o' this castle
Sae weel it pleases me
For e'er I cross the border fells
The ane o' us shall dee"

Then he took a lang spear in his hand
Shod wi' the metal free
For tae meet the Douglas there
He rade right furiously
But oh how pale his lady looked
Frae off the castle wall
When down before the Scottish spear
She saw proud Percy fall

Now it fell about the Lammas Tide
When the muirmen whin their hay
The doughty Douglas bound him ride
Into England to drive a prey
He chose the Gordons and the Grahams
The Lindsays light and gay
But the Jardines wad' not wi' him ride
And they rue it to this day

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