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Andrew Lang - Gordon Of BrackleyAndrew Lang - Gordon Of Brackley
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Down Deeside cam Inveraye Whistlin` and playing, An` called loud at Brackley gate Ere the day dawning-- "Come, Gordon of Brackley. Proud Gordon, come down, There`s a sword at your threshold Mair sharp than your own." "Arise now, gay Gordon," His lady `gan cry, "Look, here is bold Inveraye Driving your kye." "How can I go, lady, An` win them again, When I have but ae sword, And Inveraye ten?" "Arise up, my maidens, Wi` roke and wi` fan, How blest had I been Had I married a man! Arise up, my maidens, Tak` spear and tak` sword, Go milk the ewes, Gordon, An` I will be lord." The Gordon sprung up Wi` his helm on his head, Laid his hand on his sword, An` his thigh on his steed, An` he stooped low, and said, As he kissed his young dame, "There`s a Gordon rides out That will never ride hame." There rode with fierce Inveraye Thirty and three, But wi` Brackley were nane But his brother and he; Twa gallanter Gordons Did never blade draw, But against three-and-thirty Wae`s me! what are twa? Wi` sword and wi` dagger They rushed on him rude; The twa gallant Gordons Lie bathed in their blude. Frae the springs o` the Dee To the mouth o` the Tay, The Gordons mourn for him, And curse Inveraye. "O were ye at Brackley? An` what saw ye there? Was his young widow weeping An` tearing her hair?" "I looked in at Brackley, I looked in, and oh! There was mirth, there was feasting, But naething o` woe. "As a rose bloomed the lady, An` blithe as a bride, As a bridegroom bold Inveraye Smiled by her side. Oh! she feasted him there As she ne`er feasted lord, While the blood of her husband Was moist on his sword. "In her chamber she kept him Till morning grew gray, Thro` the dark woods of Brackley She shewed him the way. `Yon wild hill,` she said, `Where the sun`s shining on, Is the hill of Glentanner,-- One kiss, and begone!`" There`s grief in the cottage, There`s grief in the ha`, For the gude, gallant Gordon That`s dead an` awa`. To the bush comes the bud, An` the flower to the plain, But the gude and the brave They come never again.
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