No: 206; variant: 206A
- ‘O BILLIE, billie, bonny billie,
Will ye go to the wood wi me?
We’ll ca our horse hame masterless,
An gar them trow slain men are we.’
- ‘O no, O no!’ says Earlstoun,
‘For that’s the thing that maunna be;
For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill,
Where I maun either gae or die.’
- So Earlstoun rose in the morning,
An mounted by the break o day,
An he has joind our Scottish lads,
As they were marching out the way.
- ‘Now, farewell, father! and farewell, mother!
An fare ye weel, my sisters three!
An fare ye well, my Earlstoun!
For thee again I’ll never see.’
- So they’re awa to Bothwell Hill,
An waly, they rode bonnily!
When the Duke o Monmouth saw them comin,
He went to view their company.
- ‘Ye’re welcome, lads,’ then Monmouth said,
Ye’re welcome, brave Scots lads, to me;
And sae are you, brave Earlstoun,
The foremost o your company.
- ‘But yield your weapons ane an a’,
O yield your weapons, lads, to me;
For, gin ye’ll yield your weapons up,
Ye’se a’ gae hame to your country.’
- Out then spak a Lennox lad,
And waly, but he spoke bonnily!
‘I winna yield my weapons up,
To you nor nae man that I see.’
- Then he set up the flag o red,
A’ set about wi bonny blue:
‘Since ye’ll no cease, and be at peace,
See that ye stand by ither true.’
- They stelld their cannons on the height,
And showrd their shot down in the how,
An beat our Scots lads even down;
Thick they lay slain on every know.
- As eer you saw the rain down fa,
Or yet the arrow frae the bow,
Sae our Scottish lads fell even down,
An they lay slain on every know.
- ‘O hold your hand,’ the Monmouth cry’d,
‘Gie quarters to yon men for me;’
But wicked Claverhouse swore an oath
His cornet’s death revengd sud be.
- ‘O hold your hand,’ Monmouth cry’d,
‘If ony thing you’ll do for me;
Hold up your hand, you cursed Graeme,
Else a rebel to our king ye’ll be.’
- Then wicked Claverhouse turnd about—-
I wot an angry man was he—-
And he has lifted up his hat,
And cry’d, God bless his Majesty!
- Than he’s awa to London town,
Ay een as fast as he can dree;
Fause witnesses he has wi him taen,
An taen Monmouth’s head frae his body.
- Alang the brae beyond the brig,
Mony brave man lies cauld and still;
But lang we’ll mind, and sair we’ll rue,
The bloody battle of Bothwell Hill.