4 ‘O rise up, John,’ she says, ‘turn back your kye; They’re oer the hills rinning, they’re skipping away.’ 5 ‘Come to your bed, Peggie, and let the kye rin, For were I to gang out, I would never get in.’ 6 Then she’s cry’d on her women, they quickly came ben: ‘Take up your rocks, lassies, and fight a’ like men. 7 ‘Though I’m but a woman, to head you I’ll try, Nor let these vile Highland-men steal a’ our kye.’ 8 Then up gat the baron, and cry’d for his graith; Says, Lady, I’ll gang, tho to leave you I’m laith. 9 ‘Come, kiss me, my Peggie, nor think I’m to blame; For I may well gang out, but I’ll never win in.’ 10 When the Baron of Braikly rade through the close, A gallanter baron neer mounted a horse. 11 Tho there came wi Inverey thirty and three, There was nane wi bonny Braikly but his brother and he. 12 Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw; But against four and thirty, wae’s me, what was twa? 13 Wi swords and wi daggers they did him surround, And they’ve pierc’d bonny Braikly wi mony a wound. 14 Frae the head of the Dee to the banks of the Spey, The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey. 15 ‘O came ye by Braikly, and was ye in there? Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?’ 16 ‘O I came by Braikly, and I was in there, But I saw not his Peggy dear riving her hair.’ 17 ‘O fye on ye, lady! how could ye do sae? You opend your yate to the faus Inverey.’ 18 She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in; She welcomd the villain that slew her baron. 19 She kept him till morning, syne bad him be gane, And showd him the road that he woud na be tane. 20 ‘Thro Birss and Aboyne,’ she says, ‘lyin in a tour, Oer the hills of Glentanor you’ll skip in an hour.’ 21 There is grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha, But the Baron of Braikly is dead and awa. * * * * * D Skene MS., p. 110; north of Scotland, 1802–3. 1 ‘Baron o Breachell, are ye within? The sharp souerd is at yer gate, Breachell, we’ll gar yer blood spin.’ 2 ‘Thei’r at yer gate, Breachel, thei’r neither men nor lads, But fifty heard widifas, wi belted plaids.’ 3 ‘O if I had a man,’ she says, ‘as it looks I had nane, He widna sit in the house and see my kye tane. 4 ‘But lasses tak down yer rocks, and we will defend . . . . . . . 5 ‘O kiss me, dear Peggy, and gee me down my gun, I may well ga out, but I ll never come in.’ 6 Out spak his brither, says, Gee me yer hand; I’ll fight in yer cause sae lang as I may stand. 7 Whan the Baron o Breachell came to the closs, A braver baron neir red upon horse. 8 . . . . . . . I think the silly heard widifas are grown fighten men. 9 First they killed ane, and syen they killed twa, And the Baron o Breachell is dead and awa.