They lighted high on Otterbourne, Upon the bent sae brown; They lighted high on Otterbourne, And threw their pallions down. And he that had a bonnie boy, Sent out his horse to grass, And he that had not a bonnie boy, His ain servant he was. But up then spake a little page, Before the peep of dawn: “O waken ye, waken ye, my good lord, For Percy’s hard at hand.” “Ye lie, ye lie, ye liar loud! Sae loud I hear ye lie; For Percy had not men yestreen, To dight my men and me. “But I have dream’d a dreary dream, Beyond the Isle of Sky; I saw a dead man win a fight, And I think that man was I.” He belted on his guid braid sword, And to the field he ran; But he forgot the helmet good, That should have kept his brain. When Percy wi the Douglas met, I wat he was fu fain! They swakked their swords, till sair they swat, And the blood ran down like rain. But Percy with his good broad sword, That could so sharply wound, Has wounded Douglas on the brow, Till he fell to the ground. Then he calld on his little foot-page, And said—“Run speedilie, And fetch my ain dear sister’s son, Sir Hugh Montgomery. “My nephew good,” the Douglas said, “What recks the death of ane! Last night I dreamd a dreary dream, And I ken the day’s thy ain. “My wound is deep; I fain would sleep; Take thou the vanguard of the three, And hide me by the braken bush, That grows on yonder lilye lee. “O bury me by the braken-bush, Beneath the blooming brier; Let never living mortal ken That ere a kindly Scot lies here.” He lifted up that noble lord, Wi the saut tear in his e’e; He hid him in the braken bush, That his merrie men might not see. The moon was clear, the day drew near, The spears in flinders flew, But mony a gallant Englishman Ere day the Scotsmen slew. The Gordons good, in English blood, They steepd their hose and shoon; The Lindesays flew like fire about, Till all the fray was done. The Percy and Montgomery met, That either of other were fain; They swapped swords, and they twa swat, And aye the blood ran down between. “Yield thee, now yield thee, Percy,” he said, “Or else I vow I’ll lay thee low!” “To whom must I yield,” quoth Earl Percy, “Now that I see it must be so?” “Thou shalt not yield to lord nor loun, Nor yet shalt thou yield to me; But yield thee to the braken-bush, That grows upon yon lilye lee!” “I will not yield to a braken-bush, Nor yet will I yield to a brier; But I would yield to Earl Douglas, Or Sir Hugh the Montgomery, if he were here.” As soon as he knew it was Montgomery, He stuck his sword’s point in the gronde; The Montgomery was a courteous knight, And quickly took him by the honde.