Classic Poem

Doon Deeside cam Inverey
A-whistlin and singin,
And lighted at Braikley's yetts
When the day was dawin.
O braw Lord Braikley,
O are ye within--
There's sharp swords at your yett
Will gar your bluid spin.

Now rise up, my Baron,
And turn back your kye,
For the lads o' Drumwharron
Are driving them by.
O how can I rise up
And how can I gang,
For when I hae ae man
I wat they hae ten.

Now rise up, my lassies,
Tak your rocks in your hands
And turn back the kye--
I hae you at command.
Gin I had a husband
As it seems I hae nane,
He wadnae lie in bed
And see his kye ta'en.

Now kiss me, my lady,
Nor think I'm to blame;
I well may rin oot
But I'll never win hame.
When Braikley was buskit
And leapt on his horse,
A bonnier Baron
Ne'er rade o'er a close.

There came wi' Inverey
Full thirty and three,
But wi' Braikley was nane
But his brither and he.
Two gallanter Gordons
Did never sword draw,
But against four and thirty
Wae 's me, what it twa?

Wi' sword and wi' dirk
They did him surround,
And they pierced bonny Braikley
Wi' mony a wound.
From the head o' the Dee
To the banks o' the Spey
The Gordons may mourn him
And curse Inverey.

O cam ye by Baikley yetts,
Or went ye in there?
And saw ye his lady
A-rivin her hair?
O I cam by Braikley yetts
And I went in there,
And I saw his lady
A-making good cheer.

She leuch wi' them and drank wi' them
And welcomed them ben;
She showed them the way
Where they wouldna be ta'en.
O there 's wae in the kitchen
And mirth in the ha',
But the Baron o' Braikley
Is dead and awa'.