Oor lords have tae the huntin' gane
The huntin' o' the fallow deer
And they hae grippit Hughie Graham
For stealin' o' the bishop's mere
And they hae taen him hand and fit
And brocht him up through Carlisle toon
The toonsfolk cried oot aw at yince
Sayin', "Hugh the Graham, he maun ging doon"
"Gae lowse my right hand free," he said
"And pit my brand intae the same
There's nane in Carlisle toon the day
Daur tell the tale on Hughie Graham"
And they hae brocht a coort tae sit
Mangst a' their best nobility
Fifteen o' them cried aw at yince
"Sir Hugh the Graham, he noo maun dee"
They've taen him up tae the gallows hill
And he lookit up at the gallows tree
Yet ne'er did color leave his cheek
Nor did he even blink his ee
"And ye may gie tae ma brither John
My sword that's bent wi' the metal clear
And bid him come at twelve o'clock
Tae see me pay the bishop's mere
Ye may gie tae my brither James
My sword that's bent wi' the metal broon
And bid him come at two o'clock
Tae see his brither Hugh cut doon
And ye may tell tae my kith and kin
I never did disgrace their blood
And if they see the bishop's cloak
Tae mak it shorter by the hood"
