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“I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,

Mother lady! mother lady!
I'll set my foot in a bottomless ship,

And ye 'll never see mair o me, 0.”

“What wilt thou leave to thy poor wife?

Son Davie ! son Davie !” “Grief and sorrow all her life,

And she'll never get mair frae me, 0.”

“What wilt thou leave to thy young son?

Son Davie! son Davie!” “The weary warld to wander up and down,

And he'll never get mair o' me, 0.”

“What wilt thou leave to thy mother dear?

Son Davie ! son Davie !” “A fire o coals to burn her wi' hearty cheer, And she'll never get mair o' me,

0."

EDWARD! EDWARD!

This has been well called a "terrible ballad.” It is here reprinted from Percy's Reliques—somewhat modernised in the spelling, but not otherwise altered from the form in which it was communicated by Lord Hailes, its supposed adapter.

“Why does your brand sae drap wi' blude?

Edward ! Edward ! Why does your brand sae drap wi' blude, And why sae sad gang ye, O ?"

“0! I hae killed my hawk sae gude,

Mither! mither! 0! I hae killed my hawk sae gude And I hae nae mair but he, 0.”

“ Your hawk's blude was never so red,

Edward ! Edward ! Your hawk's blude was never so red, My dear son, I tell thee, 0.”

“O! I hae killed

my
red roan steed,

Mither! mither!
0! I hae killed my red roan steed,
That erst was fair and free, O.”

“Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair,

Edward ! Edward ! Your steed was auld, and ye hae got mair, Some other dule ye drie, 0."

“O! I hae killed my father dear,

Mither! mither! 0! I hae killed my father dear, Alas, and wae is me, O.”

“And whatten penance will ye drie for that?

Edward ! Edward ! And whatten penance will ye drie for that? My dear son, now tell me, O.”

“I'll set my feet in yonder boat,

Mither! mither!
I'll set my feet in yonder boat.
And I'll fare over the sea, 0."

“And what will ye do wi'

your towers and

your ha'?

Edward ! Edward ! And what will ye do wi' your towers and your ha', That were sae fair to see, O ?”

“I'll let them stand till they doun fa',

Mither! mither!
I'll let them stand till they doun fa',
For here never mair maun I be, O.”

“And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife?

Edward ! Edward ! And what will ye leave to your bairns and your

wife, When ye gang over the sea, O ?”

“The warld's room, let them beg through life,

Mither! mither! The warld's room, let them beg through life, For them never mair will I

see,

0."

“And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear?

Edward ! Edward ! And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, My dear son, now tell me, O ?”

“The curse of hell frae me shall ye bear,

Mither! mither!
The curse of hell frae me shall ye bear,
Sic counsels ye gave to me, 0!”

EDOM O' GORDON.

The stronghold of the Gordons was in Berwickshire; and Edom or Adam Gordon, deputy for his brother the Earl of Huntly, in one of his ravaging forays, killed Arthur Forbes, brother to Lord Forbes. Not long afterwards he “summoned” the house of Rodes, near Dunse, in Berwickshire, which belonged to Alexander Forbes, then absent from home. The lady refused to surrender, without the sanction of her husband; upon which Adam Gordon set fire to the castle. The lady, together with her children and servants, twenty-seven persons in all, perished in the flames. The facts are related by Spottiswoode in his “History of the Church of Scotland."

IT fell about the Martinmas,

When the wind blew shrill and cauld,
Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,

“We maun draw till a hauld.*

“And what a hauld sall we draw till,

My merry men and me?
We wull gae to the house o' the Rodes,

To see that fair ladie."

The lady stood on her castle wa',

Beheld baith dale and down :
There she was 'ware of a host of men

Came riding to the toun.

“O see ye not, my merry men a'?

O see ye not what I see?
Methinks I see a host of men :

I marvel wha they be.”

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She weened it had been her luvely lord,

As he cam riding hame;
It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon,

Wha reckt nae sin nor shame.

She had nae sooner buskit hirsel,

And putten on her goun,
But Edom o' Gordon and his men

Were round about the toun.

They had nae sooner supper set,

Nae sooner said the grace,
Than Edom o' Gordon and his men

Were light about the place.

The lady ran up to her tower head,

So fast as she could hie,
To see if by her fair speechès

She could wi' him agree.

But whan he saw this lady safe

And her gates all locked fast, He fell into a rage of wrath,

And his look was all aghast.

“Come down to me, ye lady gay,

Come down, come down to me; This night sall ye lig within mine arms,

To-morrow my bride sall 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.”

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