‘And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your bairns and your wife, When ye gang owre the sea, O?’ ‘The warld’s room: let them beg through life, Mither, mither; The warld’s room: let them beg through life; For them never mair will I see, O.’ ‘And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear. Edward, Edward? And what will ye leave to your ain mither dear, My dear son, now tell me, O?’ ‘The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear, Mither, mither; The curse of hell frae me sall ye bear: Sic counsels ye gave to me, O!’ _374._ _Edom o’ Gordon_ It fell about the Martinmas, When the wind blew shrill and cauld, Said Edom o’ Gordon to his men, ‘We maun draw to a hauld. ‘And what a hauld sall we draw to, My merry men and me? We will gae to the house o’ the Rodes, To see that fair ladye.’ The lady stood on her castle wa’, Beheld baith dale and down; There she was ware of a host of men Cam riding towards the town. ‘O see ye not, my merry men a’, O see ye not what I see? Methinks I see a host of men; I marvel wha they be.’ She ween’d it had been her lovely lord, As he cam riding hame; It was the traitor, Edom o’ Gordon, Wha reck’d nae sin nor shame. town] stead. She had nae sooner buskit hersell, And putten on her gown, But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men Were round about the town. They had nae sooner supper set, Nae sooner said the grace, But Edom o’ Gordon an’ his men Were lighted about the place. The lady ran up to her tower-head, Sae fast as she could hie, To see if by her fair speeches She could wi’ him agree. ‘Come doun to me, ye lady gay, Come doun, come doun to me; This night sall ye lig within mine arms, To-morrow my bride sall be.’ ‘I winna come down, ye fals Gordon, I winna come down to thee; I winna forsake my ain dear lord, That is sae far frae me.’ ‘Gie owre your house, ye lady fair, Gie owre your house to me; Or I sall brenn yoursel therein, But and your babies three.’ ‘I winna gie owre, ye fals Gordon, To nae sic traitor as yee; And if ye brenn my ain dear babes, My lord sail mak ye dree. buskit] attired. ‘Now reach my pistol, Glaud, my man, And charge ye weel my gun; For, but an I pierce that bluidy butcher, My babes, we been undone!’ She stood upon her castle wa’, And let twa bullets flee: She miss’d that bluidy butcher’s heart, And only razed his knee. ‘Set fire to the house!’ quo’ fals Gordon, All wud wi’ dule and ire: ‘Fals lady, ye sail rue this deid As ye brenn in the fire!’