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The English and Scottish Popular Ballads

Edited by Francis James Child.

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127

Geordie

GEORDIE—A

[_]

Johnson's Museum, No 346, p. 357, 1792; communicated by Robert Burns.

1

There was a battle in the north,
And nobles there was many,
And they hae killd 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 lookd the letter on,
She was baith red and rosy;
But she had na read a word but twa
Till she wallowt like a lily.

4

‘Gar get to me my 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 appeard 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 chaind 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 neer 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, and 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 telld 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, bonie lady!’