Hugh the Graeme

As it befell upon one time
About midsummer of the year
Every man was taxed of his crimes
For the stealing of the Bishop's mare.

Our lords are to the hunting gone
Over the moors and mountains clear
And they have gripped Hugh the Graeme
For stealing of the Bishop's mare.

They have tied him hand and foot
And led him into Carlisle town
The lads and lasses stood on the walls
Crying, "Hugh the Graeme thou'll ne'er go down."

Then they have chosen a jury of men
'Mong all their best nobility
And twelve of them cried out at once
"Sir Hugh the Graeme he now must die."

The it's up and spoke the lady Hume
As she sat by the Bishop's knee
"Five hundred measures of gold I'll give
To grant Sir Hugh the Graeme to me."

"O hold your tongue," the Bishop said,
"And ye'll let all your pleadings be.
Though all the Graemes were in this court
He should be hanged high for me."

They've ta'en him to the gallows-knoll
He looked to the gallows tree
Yet never colour left his cheek
Nor ever did he blink his eye.

He looked over his left shoulder
It was to see what he might see
And there he saw his old father
And he was weeping bitterly.

"O hold your tongue my father dear,
And with your weeping let it be.
Thy weeping's sorer on my heart
Than all that they can do to me."

"You'll give my brother John the sword
That's pointed with the metal clear,
And bid him come at eight of the clock
To see me pay the Bishop's mare."

"Remember me to Maggie my wife,
The next time you gang o'er the moor.
She is the cause I lose my life,
She with the Bishop played the whore."

"And you may tell my kith and kin
I never did disgrace their blood,
And when they meet the Bishop's cloak
To make it shorter by the hood."