| |
| OLD GRAHAME he is to Carlisle gone, | |
| Where Sir Robert Bewick there met he; | |
| In arms to the wine they are gone, | |
| And drank till they were both merry. | |
| |
| Old Grahame he took up the cup, | 5 |
| And said, ‘Brother Bewick, here’s to thee, | |
| And here’s to our two sons at home, | |
| For they live best in our country.’ | |
| |
| ‘Nay, were thy son as good as mine, | |
| And of some books he could but read, | 10 |
| With sword and buckler by his side, | |
| To see how he could save his head, | |
| |
| ‘They might have been calld two bold brethren | |
| Where ever they did go or ride; | |
| They might have been calld two bold brethren, | 15 |
| They might have crackd 1 the Border-side. | |
| |
| ‘Thy son is bad, and is but a lad, | |
| And bully 2 to my son cannot be; | |
| For my son Bewick can both write and read, | |
| And sure I am that cannot he.’ | 20 |
| |
| ‘I put him to school, but he would not learn, | |
| I bought him books, but he would not read; | |
| But my blessing he’s never have | |
| Till I see how his hand can save his head.’ | |
| |
| Old Grahame called for an account, | 25 |
| And he askd what was for to pay; | |
| There he paid a crown, so it went round, | |
| Which was all for good wine and hay. | |
| |
| Old Grahame is into the stable gone, | |
| Where stood thirty good steeds and three; | 30 |
| He’s taken his own steed by the head, | |
| And home rode he right wantonly. | |
| |
| When he came home, there did he espy | |
| A loving sight to spy or see, | |
| There did he espy his own three sons, | 35 |
| Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he. | |
| |
| There did he espy his own three sons, | |
| Young Christy Grahame, the foremost was he: | |
| ‘Where have you been all day, father, | |
| That no counsel you would take by me?’ | 40 |
| |
| ‘Nay, I have been in Carlisle town, | |
| Where Sir Robert Bewick there met me; | |
| He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad, | |
| And a baffled man by thou I be. | |
| |
| ‘He said thou was bad, and calld thee a lad, | 45 |
| And bully to his son cannot be; | |
| For his son Bewick can both write and read, | |
| And sure I am that cannot thee. | |
| |
| ‘I put thee to school, but thou would not learn, | |
| I bought thee books, but thou would not read; | 50 |
| But my blessing thou’s never have | |
| Till I see with Bewick thou can save thy head.’ | |
| |
| ‘O, pray forbear, my father dear; | |
| That ever such a thing should be! | |
| Shall I venture my body in field to fight | 55 |
| With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’ | |
| |
| ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon? 3 | |
| Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? | |
| If thou do not end this quarrel soon, | |
| Here is my glove thou shalt fight me.’ | 60 |
| |
| Christy stoopd low unto the ground, | |
| Unto the ground, as you’ll understand: | |
| ‘O father, put on your glove again, | |
| The wind hath blown it from your hand.’ | |
| |
| ‘What’s that thou sayst, thou limmer loon? | 65 |
| Or how dare thou stand to speak to me? | |
| If thou do not end this quarrel soon, | |
| Here is my hand thou shalt fight me.’ | |
| |
| Christy Grahame is to his chamber gone, | |
| And for to study, as well might be, | 70 |
| Whether to fight with his father dear, | |
| Or with his bully Bewick he. | |
| |
| ‘If it be my fortune my bully to kill, | |
| As you shall boldly understand, | |
| In every town that I ride through, | 75 |
| They’ll say, There rides a brotherless man! | |
| |
| ‘Nay, for to kill my bully dear, | |
| I think it will be a deadly sin; | |
| And for to kill my father dear, | |
| The blessing of heaven I ne’er shall win. | 80 |
| |
| ‘O give me my blessing, father,’ he said, | |
| ‘And pray well for me for to thrive; | |
| If it be my fortune my bully to kill, | |
| I swear I’ll neer come home alive.’ | |
| |
| He put on his back a good plate-jack, | 85 |
| And on his head a cap of steel, | |
| With sword and buckler by his side; | |
| O gin 4 he did not become them weel! | |
| |
| ‘O fare thee well, my father dear! | |
| And fare thee well, thou Carlisle town! | 90 |
| If it be my fortune my bully to kill, | |
| I swear I’ll neer eat bread again.’ | |
| |
| Now we’ll leave talking of Christy Grahame, | |
| And talk of him again belive; 5 | |
| But we will talk of bonny Bewick, | 95 |
| Where he was teaching his scholars five. | |
| |
| Now when he had learnd them well to fence, | |
| To handle their swords without any doubt, | |
| He’s taken his own sword under his arm, | |
| And walkd his father’s close about. | 100 |
| |
| He lookd between him and the sun, | |
| To see what farleys 6 he could see; | |
| There he spy’d a man with armour on, | |
| As he came riding over the lee. | |
| |
| ‘I wonder much what man yon be | 105 |
| That so boldly this way does come; | |
| I think it is my nighest friend, | |
| I think it is my bully Grahame. | |
| |
| ‘O welcome, O welcome, bully Grahame! | |
| O man, thou art my dear, welcome! | 110 |
| O man, thou art my dear, welcome! | |
| For I love thee best in Christendom.’ | |
| |
| ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, | |
| And of thy bullyship let me be! | |
| The day is come I never thought on; | 115 |
| Bully, I’m come here to fight with thee.’ | |
| |
| ‘O no! not so, O bully Grahame! | |
| That eer such a word should spoken be! | |
| I was thy master, thou was my scholar: | |
| So well as I have learned thee.’ | 120 |
| |
| ‘My father he was in Carlisle town, | |
| Where thy father Bewick there met he; | |
| He said I was bad, and he called me a lad, | |
| And a baffled man by thou I be.’ | |
| |
| ‘Away, away, O bully Grahame, | 125 |
| And of all that talk, man, let us be! | |
| We’ll take three men of either side | |
| To see if we can our fathers agree.’ | |
| |
| ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, | |
| And of thy bullyship let me be! | 130 |
| But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art, | |
| Come over this ditch and fight with me.’ | |
| |
| ‘O no, not so, my bully Grahame! | |
| That eer such a word should spoken be! | |
| Shall I venture my body in field to fight | 135 |
| With a man that’s faith and troth to me?’ | |
| |
| ‘Away, away, O bully Bewick, | |
| And of all that care, man, let us be! | |
| If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, | |
| Come over this ditch and fight with me.’ | 140 |
| |
| ‘Now, if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill, | |
| As God’s will, man, it all must be; | |
| But if it be my fortune thee, Grahame, to kill, | |
| ‘Tis home again I’ll never gae.’ | |
| |
| ‘Thou art of my mind, then, bully Bewick, | 145 |
| And sworn-brethren will we be: | |
| If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, | |
| Come over this ditch and fight with me.’ | |
| |
| He flang his cloak from off his shoulders, | |
| His psalm-book out of his hand flung he, | 150 |
| He clapd his hand upon the hedge, | |
| And oer lap 7 he right wantonly. | |
| |
| When Grahame did see his bully come, | |
| The salt tear stood long in his eye: | |
| ‘Now needs must I say that thou art a man, | 155 |
| That dare venture thy body to fight with me. | |
| |
| ‘Now I have a harness on my back; | |
| I know that thou hath none on thine; | |
| But as little as thou hath on thy back, | |
| Sure as little shall there be on mine.’ | 160 |
| |
| He flang his jack from off his back, | |
| His steel cap from his head flang he; | |
| He’s taken his sword into his hand, | |
| He’s tyed his horse unto a tree. | |
| |
| Now they fell to it with two broad swords, | 165 |
| For two long hours fought Bewick and he; | |
| Much sweat was to be seen on them both, | |
| But never a drop of blood to see. | |
| |
| Now Grahame gave Bewick an ackward stroke, | |
| An ackward stroke surely struck he; | 170 |
| He struck him now under the left breast, | |
| Then down to the ground as dead fell he. | |
| |
| ‘Arise, arise, O bully Bewick, | |
| Arise, and speak three words to me! | |
| Whether this be thy deadly wound, | 175 |
| Or God and good surgeons will mend thee.’ | |
| |
| ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, | |
| And pray do get thee far from me! | |
| Thy sword is sharp, it hath wounded my heart, | |
| And so no further can I gae. | 180 |
| |
| ‘O horse, O horse, O bully Grahame, | |
| And get thee far from me with speed! | |
| And get thee out of this country quite! | |
| That none may know who’s done the deed.’ | |
| |
| ‘O if this be true, my bully dear, | 185 |
| The words that thou dost tell to me, | |
| The vow I made, and the vow I’ll keep, | |
| I swear I’ll be the first to die.’ | |
| |
| Then he stuck his sword in a moudie-hill, 8 | |
| Where he lap thirty good foot and three; | 190 |
| First he bequeathed his soul to God, | |
| And upon his own sword-point lap he. | |
| |
| Now Grahame he was the first that died, | |
| And then came Robin Bewick to see; | |
| ‘Arise, arise, O son,’ he said, | 195 |
| ‘For I see thou’s won the victory. | |
| |
| ‘Arise, arise, O son,’ he said, | |
| ‘For I see thou’s won the victory;’ | |
| ‘Father, could ye not drunk your wine at home, | |
| And letten me and my brother be? | 200 |
| |
| ‘Nay, dig a grave both low and wide, | |
| And in it us two pray bury; | |
| But bury my bully Grahame on the sun-side, | |
| For I’m sure he’s won the victory.’ | |
| |
| Now we’ll leave talking of these two brethren, | 205 |
| In Carlisle town where they lie slain, | |
| And talk of these two good old men, | |
| Where they were making a pitiful moan. | |
| |
| With that bespoke now Robin Bewick: | |
| ‘O man was I not much to blame? | 210 |
| I have lost one of the liveliest lads | |
| That ever was bred unto my name.’ | |
| |
| With that bespoke my good lord Grahame: | |
| ‘O man, I have lost the better block; | |
| I have lost my comfort and my joy, | 215 |
| I have lost my key, I have lost my lock. | |
| |
| ‘Had I gone through all Ladderdale, | |
| And forty horse had set on me, | |
| Had Christy Grahame been at my back, | |
| So well as he would guarded me.’ | 220 |
| |
| I have no more of my song to sing, | |
| But two or three words to you I’ll name; | |
| But ’twill be talked in Carlisle town | |
| That these two old men were all the blame. | |
