Classic Poem

" Open the gates,
and let him come in;
He is my brother Huntly,
he 'll do him nae harm."

The gates they were opent,
they let him come in,
But fause traitor Huntly,
he did him great harm.

He 's ben and ben,
And ben to his bed,
And with a sharp rapier
he stabbed him dead.

The lady came down the stair,
wringing her hands:
" He has slain the Earl o Murray,
the flower o Scotland."

But Huntly lap on his horse,
rade to the king:
" Ye 're welcome hame, Huntly,
and whare hae ye been?

" Whare hae ye been?
and how hae ye sped?"
" I 've killed the Earl o Murray,
dead in his bed."

" Foul fa you, Huntly!
and why did ye so?
You might have taen the Earl o Murray,
and saved his life too."

" Her bread it 's to bake,
her yill is to brew;
My sister 's a widow,
and sair do I rue.

" Her corn grows ripe,
her meadows grow green,
But in bonny Dinnibristle
I darena be seen."

" Open the gates,
and let him come in;
He is my brother Huntly,
he 'll do him nae harm."

The gates they were opent,
they let him come in,
But fause traitor Huntly,
he did him great harm.

He 's ben and ben,
and ben to his bed,
And with a sharp rapier
he stabbed him dead.

The lady came down the stair,
wringing her hands:
" He has slain the Earl o Murray,
the flower o Scotland."

But Huntly lap on his horse,
rade to the king:
" Ye 're welcome hame, Huntly,
and whare hae ye been?

" Whare hae ye been?
and how hae ye sped?"
" I 've killed the Earl o Murray,
dead in his bed."

" Foul fa you, Huntly!
and why did ye so?
You might have taen the Earl o Murray,
and saved his life too."

" Her bread it 's to bake,
her yill is to brew;
My sister 's a widow,
and sair do I rue.

" Her corn grows ripe,
her meadows grow green,
But in bonny Dinnibristle
I darena be seen."