Classic Poem

‘Baron o Breachell, are ye within?
The sharp souerd is at yer gate, Breachell, we 'll gar yer blood spin.’

‘Thei 'r at yer gate, Breachel, thei 'r neither men nor lads,
But fifty heard widifas, wi belted plaids.’

‘O if I had a man,’ she says, ‘as it looks I had nane,
He widna sit in the house and see my kye tane.

‘But lasses tak down yer rocks, and we will defend
. . . . . . . .

‘O kiss me, dear Peggy, and gee me down my gun,
I may well ga out, but I 'll never come in.’

Out spak his brither, says, Gee me yer hand;
I 'll fight in yer cause sae lang as I may stand.

Whan the Baron o Breachell came to the closs,
A braver baron neir red upon horse.

. . . . . . . .
I think the silly heard widifas are grown fighten men.

First they killed ane, and syen they killed twa,
And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon o the Knock,
The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuick.

First they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa,
And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

Up came Crigevar and a' his fighten men:
‘Had I come an hour soonur, he sudna been slain.’

For first they killed ane, and seyn they killed twa,
And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.

‘O came ye by Breachell, lads? was ye in their?
Saw ye Peggy Dann riving her hair?’

‘We cam by Breachell, lads, we was in there,
And saw Peggie Dann cairling her hair.

‘She eat wi them, drank wi them, bad them come in
To her house an bours that had slain her baron.

‘Come in, gentlemen, eat and drink wi me;
Tho ye ha slain my baron, I ha na a wite at ye.’

‘O was [ye] at Glenmuik, lads? was ye in theire?
Saw ye Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair?’

‘We was at Glenmuik, lads, we was is there,
We saw Cathrin Gordon rivin her hair.

‘Wi the tear in her eye, seven bairns at her foot,
The eighth on her knee …

They killed Peter Gordon, Peter Gordon of the Knock,
The miller and his three sons, that lived at Glenmuik.

First they killed ane, and syn they killed twa,
And the Baron of Breachell is dead and awa.