He's struck the door hard wi' his foot,

Sae has he wi' his knee,

And iron locks and iron bars

Into the floor flung he;

"Be not afraid, Burd Ellen!" he says,"There's nane come in but me.

"Take up, take up my bonny young son! Gar wash him wi' the milk!

Take up, take up my fair lady!

Gar roll her in the silk!

"And cheer thee up, Burd Ellen!" he says,— "Look nae mair sad nor wae!

For your marriage and your churching too Shall baith be in ae day."

EDOM O' GORDON.

It fell about the Martinmas,

When the wind blew shrill and cold, Said Edom o' Gordon to his men"We maun draw to a hold.

"And what an hold shall we draw to,
My merry men and me?

We will gae to the house of the Rodes,
To see that fair lady.”

She had nae sooner busked hersel'
Nor putten on her gown,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the town.

They had nae sooner sitten down,
No sooner said the grace,
Till Edom o' Gordon and his men

Were closed about the place.

The lady ran up to her tower head,

As fast as she could drie,
To see if by her fair speeches
She could with him agree.

As soon as he saw the lady fair
And her gates all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his heart was aghast.

"Come down to me, ye lady fair!
Come down to me, let's see!
This night ye'se lie by my ain side,
The morn my bride shall be."

"I winna come down, ye false Gordon!
I winna come down to thee,
I winna forsake my ain dear Lord
That is sae far frae me."

“Gi'e up your house, ye fair lady !
Gi'e up your house to me!
Or I will burn yoursel' therein,
Both you and your babes three."

"I winna gi'e up, ye false Gordon !
To nae sic traitor as thee,

Though you should burn mysel' therein,

Both and my babes three."

"Set fire to the house!" quoth false Gordon,"Sin better mayna be;

And I will burn hersel' therein,

Both and her babes three."

"And e'en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!

I paid ye weel your fee;

Why pull ye out my ground wall-stane,
Lets in the reek to me?

"And e'en wae worth ye, Jock, my man!

For I paid ye weel your hire;

Why pull ye out my ground wall-stane,
To me lets in the fire ?"

"Ye paid me weel my hire, lady!
Ye paid me weel my fee;

And now I'm Edom o' Gordon's man,
Maun either do or dee."

O then bespake her youngest son,
Sat on the nurse's knee :

"Dear mother! gi'e owre your house!" he says,— "For the reek it worries me."

"I winna gi'e up my house, my dear! To nae sic traitor as he;

66

Come weal, come woe, my jewels fair!
Ye maun take share with me."

O then bespake her daughter dear,-
She was baith jimp and small :

"O roll me in a pair o' sheets,

And tow me owre the wall!"

They roll'd her in a pair o' sheets,
And tow'd her owre the wall;
But on the point of Edom's spear
She gat a deadly fall.

O bonny, bonny, was her mouth,
And cherry were her cheeks,
And clear, clear was her yellow hair
Whereon the red bluid drips!

Then with his spear he turn'd her owre,-
O gin her face was wan!

He said-" You are the first that e'er
I wish'd alive again.”

He turn'd her owre, and owre again,—
O gin her skin was white!

He said "I might hae spared thy life
To been some man's delight!

"Busk and boun, my merry men a' !
For ill dooms I do guess;

I canna look in that bonny face
As it lies upon the grass."

"Them looks to frights, my master dear! Their frights will follow [hame];

Let it ne'er be said brave Edom o' Gordon Was daunted with a dame!"

O then he spied (her ain dear lord
As he came owre the lea),
He saw his castle in a fire,
As far as he could see.

"Put on! put on, my wighty men!
As fast as ye can drie !

For he that's hindmost of my men
Shall ne'er get good o' me."

And some they rade, and some they ran,
Fu' fast out owre the plain;

But lang, lang ere he could get up
They were a' dead and slain.

But mony were the moody men
Lay gasping on the green;

For of fifty men that Edom brought out
There were but five gaed hame.

THE TWA BROTHERS.

"O will ye gae to the schule ? brother!
Or will ye gae to the ba'?

Or will ye gae to the wood a-wrastling,
To see whilk o' us maun fa'?”

"It's I winna gae to the schule, brother!
Nor will I gae to the ba';

But I will gae to the wood a-wrastling,
And it is you maun fa'."

They wrastled up, they wrastled down,
The live-lang simmer's day,

Till out and Willie's drawn his sword
And did his brother slay.

"O lift me up upon your back,

Take me to yon well fair!

You'll wash my bluidy wounds owre and owre, And syne they'll bleed nae mair.

"And ye'll take aff my holland sark,
And rive it frae gair to gair;
Ye'll steep it in my bluidy wounds,
And syne they'll bleed nae mair."

He's lifted his brother upon his back,
Ta'en him to yon well fair;

He's wash'd his bluidy wounds owre and owre,
But aye they bled mair and mair.

And he's ta'en aff his holland sark,
Riven it frae gair to gair;

He's steeped it in his bluidy wounds,
But aye they bled mair and mair.