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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."

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