Hughie Graeme

Lords have to the mountains gone, a-huntin' of the

fallow deer

They have grippit Hughie Graeme for stealing of the

bishop's mare

They have bought him hand and foot, led him up through

Carlisle town

All the lads along the way cried "Hughie Graeme, you

shall hang"

"Loose my right arm free," he said,

"Put my broadsword in my hand.

There's none in Carlisle town this day

Dare tell the tale to Hughie Graeme."

Up and spoke the good Whitefoord as he sat by the

bishop's knee,

"Five hundred white stots I'll give you if you give

Hughie Graeme to me."

"Hold your tongue, my noble lord, and as of your

pleading, let it be.

Although ten Graemes were in his coat, Hughie Graeme

this day shall die."

Up and spoke the fair Whitefoord as she sat by the

bishop's knee,

"Five hundred white pence I'll give you if you let

Hughie Grame go free."

"Hold your tongue, my lady fair, and as of your

weeping, let it be.

Although ten Graemes were in his coat, it's for my

honor he must die."

They've ta'en him to the hanging hill and led him by

the gallows tree

Ne'er did color leave his cheek, nor ever did he blink

his eye

Then he's looked him roundabout, all for to see what he

could see

Then he saw his father dear, weeping, weeping bitterly

"Hold your tongue, my father dear, and as of your

weeping, let it be.

It sorer, sorer grieves my heart than all that they

could do to me.

And you may give my brother James my sword that's made

of the metal clear.

Bid him come at twelve of the clock and see me pay the

bishop's mare.

And you may give my brother John my sword that's made

of the metal brown.

Bid him come at four of the clock and see his brother

Hugh cut down.

Remember me to Maggie my wife the next time she comes

o'er the moor

Tell 'er she stole the bishop's mare

Tell 'er she was the bishop's whore

And you may tell my kith and kin I never did disgrace

their blood

When next they meet the bishop's cloak,

Leave it shorter by the hood!"