The Baron Of Brackley

Doon Deeside cam Inveray a-whistlin' an' playin'

An' he cam by Brackley's yetts ere the day was dawin'

"Oh are ye there, Brackley, and are ye within?

Oor shairp swords are at yer yetts, an' we'll gaur your bluid spin"

"Rise up, Betsy Gordon, an' gie me my gun

For though I gang oot, love, sure I'll never come in

Come kiss me, my Betsy, nor think I'm tae blame

For though I hae ae man, I'm sure they hae ten"

When Brackley was mounted and rade on his horse

A bonnier baron ne'er rade o'er a course

Twa gallanter Gordons did never swords draw

But against three and thirty, fa's me, whit is twa?

Wi' their dirks and their broadswords, they did him surroun'

And they killed bonny Brackley wi' mony's a woun'

Frae the heid o' the Dee tae the banks o' the Spey

The Gordons shall mourn him and ban Inveray

Oh cam ye by Brackley's yetts, an' cam ye by here?

An' saw ye his lady a-rivin' her hair?

Oh an' I cam by Brackley's yetts an' I cam by here

An' I saw his fair lady, she wis makin' guid cheer

She was rantin' an' dancin' an' singin' wi' joy

An' vowin' that verra nicht she would feast Inveray

Well, she's laughed wi' him, danced wi' him, welcomed him in

She was kind tae the murderer wha had slayed her guid man

Through hedges an' ditches ye canna be sure

But through the woods at Glentor ye can slip in an hour

An' it's up spak the babe sittin' on his mither's knee

Sayin', "Afore I'm a man, it's avenged I'll be"