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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