[Illustration: 9079] |Gude Lord Græme is to Carlisle gane, Sir Robert Bewick there met he, And arm in arm to the wine they did go, And they drank till they were baith merry. Gude Lord Græme has ta en up the cup, "Sir Robert Bewick, and heres to thee! And here's to our twa sons at hame! For they like us best in our ain country."-- "O were your son a lad like mine, And learn'd some books that he could read, They might hae been twa brethren bold, And they might hae bragged the Border side. (_bragged_, defied.) "But your son's a lad, and he is but bad, And billy to my son he canna be;" ***** "[I] sent him to the schools, and he wadna learn; [I] bought him books, and he wadna read; But my blessing shall he never earn, Till I see how his arm can defend his head."-- Gude Lord Græme has a reckoning call'd, A reckoning then called he; And he paid a crown, and it went roun', It was all for the gude wine and free. And he has to the stable gane, Where there stood thirty steeds and three; He's ta'en his ain horse amang them a', And hame he rade sae manfully. "Welcome, my auld father!" said Christie Graeme, "But where sae lang frae hame were ye?"-- "It's I hae been at Carlisle town, And a baffled man by thee I be. "I hae been at Carlisle town, Where Sir Robert Bewick he met me; He says yere a lad, and ye are but bad, And billy to his son ye canna be. "I sent ye to the schools, and ye wadna learn; I bought ye books, and ye wadna read; Therefore my blessing ye shall never earn, Till I see with Bewick thou save my head." "Now, God forbid, my auld father, That ever sic a thing should be! Billy Bewick was my master, and I was his scholar, And aye sae weel as he learned me." "O hold thy tongue, thou limmer loon, And of thy talking let me be! If thou does na end me this quarrel soon, There is my glove, I'll fight wi' thee." Then Christie Græme he stooped low Unto the ground, you shall understand;-- "O father, put on your glove again, The wind has blown it from your hand?" What's that thou says, thou limmer loon? How dares thou stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, There's my right hand thou shalt fight with me."-- Then Christie Graeme's to his chamber gane, To consider weel what then should be; Whether he should fight with his auld father, Or with his billy Bewick, he. (_limmer_, rascal.) Græme and Bewick ss' 47 "If I should kill my billy dear, God's blessing I shall never win; But if I strike at my auld father, I think 'twould be a mortal sin. "But if I kill my billy dear, It is God's will, so let it be; But I make a vow, ere I gang frae hame, That I shall be the next man's die."-- Then he's put on's back a gude auld jack, And on his head a cap of steel,