26. He had but time to cross himsel',

A prayer he hadna time to say,
Till round him came the Crosiers keen,
All riding graith'd and in array.

27. 'Weel met, weel met, now, Parcy Reed,
Thou art the very man we sought;
Owre lang hae we been in your debt,

Now will we pay you as we ought.

28. 'We'll pay thee at the nearest tree,

Where we shall hang thee like a hound.'Brave Parcy rais'd his fankit sword,

And fell'd the foremost to the ground.

29. Alake, and wae for Parcy Reed!
Alake, he was an unarmed man!
Four weapons pierced him all at once,
As they assail'd him there and than.

30. They fell upon him all at once,

They mangled him most cruellie;

The slightest wound might caused his deid,
And they hae gi'en him thirty-three;
They hackit off his hands and feet,
And left him lying on the lee.

31. 'Now, Parcy Reed, we've paid our debt, Ye canna weel dispute the tale,'

The Crosiers said, and off they rade;
They rade the airt o' Liddesdale.

32. It was the hour o' gloaming gray, When herds come in frae fauld and pen; A herd he saw a huntsman lie,

Says he, 'Can this be Laird Troughen'?'

33. 'There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,

And some will ca' me Laird Troughen'; It's little matter what they ca' me,

My faes hae made me ill to ken.

34. 'There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed, And speak my praise in tower and town; It's little matter what they do now,

My life-blood rudds the heather brown.

35. 'There's some will ca' me Parcy Reed,
And a' my virtues say and sing;
I would much rather have just now
A draught o' water frae the spring.'

36. The herd flung aff his clouted shoon And to the nearest fountain ran; He made his bonnet serve a cup,

And wan the blessing o' the dying man.

37. 'Now, honest herd, ye maun do mair,
Ye maun do mair, as I you tell;
Ye maun bear tidings to Troughend,
And bear likewise my last farewell.

38. 'A farewell to my wedded wife,
A farewell to my brother John,
Wha sits into the Troughend tower
Wi' heart as black as any stone.

39. A farewell to my daughter Jean,
A farewell to my young sons five;
Had they been at their father's hand,
I had this night been man alive.

40. 'A farewell to my followers a',

And a' my neighbours gude at need;
Bid them think how the treacherous Ha's
Betrayed the life o' Parcy Reed.

41. 'The laird o' Clennel bears my bow,
The laird o' Brandon bears my brand;

Whene'er they ride i' the Border-side,

They'll mind the fate o' the laird Troughend.'

THE DOWIE HOUMS OF YARROW

1. LATE at een, drinkin' the wine,
And ere they paid the lawin',
They set a combat them between,
To fight it in the dawin'.

2. 'O stay at hame, my noble lord!
O stay at hame, my marrow!

My cruel brother will you betray,
On the dowie houms o' Yarrow.'-

3. 'O fare ye weel, my lady gay!
O fare ye weel, my Sarah!
For I maun gae, tho' I ne'er return

Frae the dowie banks o' Yarrow.'

4. She kiss'd his cheek, she kamed his hair, As she had done before, O;

She belted on his noble brand,

An' he's awa to Yarrow.

5. O he's gane up yon high, high hill ·
I wat he gaed wi' sorrow

An' in a den spied nine arm'd men,
I' the dowie houms o' Yarrow.

6. 'O are ye come to drink the wine, As ye hae doon before, O?

Or are ye come to wield the brand,

On the dowie houms o' Yarrow?'

7. 'I am no come to drink the wine,
As I hae done before, O,

But I am come to wield the brand,
On the dowie houms o' Yarrow.'

8. Four he hurt an" five he slew,

On the dowie houms o' Yarrow,

Till that stubborn knight came him, behind,

An' ran his body thorrow.

9. 'Gae hame, gae hame, good brother John, An' tell your sister Sarah

To come an' lift her noble lord,
Who's sleepin' sound on Yarrow.'

10. 'Yestreen I dream'd a dolefu' dream;
I ken'd there wad be sorrow;
I dream'd I pu'd the heather green,
On the dowie banks o' Yarrow.'

11. She gaed up yon high, high hill
I wat she gaed wi' sorrow
An' in a den spied nine dead men,
On the dowie houms o' Yarrow.

12. She kiss'd his cheek, she kamed his hair, As oft she did before, O;

She drank the red blood frae him ran,
On the dowie houms o' Yarrow.

13. 'O haud your tongue, my douchter dear, For what needs a' this sorrow?

I'll wed you on a better lord

Than him you lost on Yarrow.'

14. 'O haud your tongue, my father dear, An' dinna grieve your Sarah;