PR Website - The Baron of Brackley

No: 203; variant: 203A

Inverey cam doun Deeside, whistlin and playin, He was at brave Braikley's yett ere it was dawin.
He rappit fu loudly and wi a great roar, Cried, Cum doun, cum doun, Braikley, and open the door.
'Are ye sleeping, Baronne, or are ye wakin? Ther's sharpe swords at your yett, will gar your blood spin.
'Open the yett, Braikley, and lat us within, Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin.'
Out spak the brave baronne, owre the castell-wa: 'Are ye cum to spulyie and plunder mi ha?
'But gin ye be gentlemen, licht and cum in: Gin ye drink o my wine, ye'll nae gar my bluid spin.
'Gin ye be hir'd widifus, ye may gang by, Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky.
'Ther spulyie like rievers o wyld kettrin clan, Who plunder unsparing baith houses and lan.
'Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum [in], Ther's meat an drink i my ha for every man.
'Gin ye bir'd widifus, ye may gang by, Gang doun to the lawlands, and steal horse and ky.'
Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she lay, 'Get up, get up, Braikley, and be not afraid; The'r but young hir'd widifus wi belted plaids.'
'Cum kiss me, mi Peggy, I'le nae langer stay, For I will go out and meet Inverey.
'But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din, For yon same hir'd widifus will prove themselves men.'
She called on her marys, they cam to her hand; Cries, Bring me your rocks, lassies, we will them command.
'Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky, Or me an mi women will them defy.
'Cum forth then, mi maidens, and show them some play; We'll ficht them, and shortly the cowards will fly.
'Gin I had a husband, whereas I hae nane, He woud nae ly i his bed and see his ky taen.
'Ther's four-and-twenty milk-whit calv5s, tw1l o them ky, In the woods o Glentanner, it's ther thei a' ly.
'Ther's goat i the Etnach, and sheep o the brae, An a' will be plunderd by young Inverey.'
'Now haud your tongue, Peggy, and gie me a gun, Ye'll see me gae furth, but I'll never cum in.
'Call mi brother William, mi unkl also, Mi cousin James Gordon; we'll mount and we'll go.'
When Braikley was ready and stood i the closs, He was the bravest baronne that eer mounted horse.
Whan all wer assembld o the castell green, No man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen
. . . . . 'Turn bak, brother William, ye are a bridegroom;
'Wi bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill; O sichin and sobbin she'll soon get her fill.'
'I'm no coward, brother, 'tis kend I'm a man; I'll ficht i your quarral as lang's I can stand.
'I'll ficht, my dear brother, wi heart and gude will, And so will young Harry that lives at the mill.
'But turn, mi dear brother, and nae langer stay: What'll cum o your ladie, gin Braikley thei slay?
'What'll cum o your ladie and bonnie young son? O what'll cum o them when Braikley is gone?'
'I never will turn: do you think I will fly? But here I will ficht, and here I will die.'
'Strik dogs,' crys Inverey, aend ficht till ye're slayn, For we are four hundered, ye are but four men.
'Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honour is gone, Your lands we will plunder, your castell we'll burn.'
At the head o the Etnach the battel began, At Little Auchoilzie thei killd the first man.
First thei killd ane, and soon they killd twa, Thei killd gallant Braikley, the flour o them a'.
Thei killd William Gordon, and James o the Knox, And brave Alexander, the flour o Glenmuick.
What sichin and moaning was heard i the glen, For the Baronne o Braikley, who basely was slayn!
'Cam ye bi the castell, and was ye in there? Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?'
'Yes, I cam by Braikley, and I gaed in there, And there [saw] his ladie braiding her hair.
'She was rantin, and dancin, and singin for joy, And vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey.
'She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in, Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne.'
Up spake the son on the nourice's knee, 'Gin I live to be a man, revenged I'll be.'
Ther's dool i the kitchin, and mirth i the ha, The Baronne o Braikley is dead and awa.