Hughie the Graeme Lyrics
Hughie the Graeme - Ewan MacColl
Lyrics by：Traditional
Composed by：Traditional
The laird o' hume he's a huntin' gone
Over the hills and mountains clear
And he has ta'en Sir hugh the grame
For stealin' o' the bishop's mear
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
They hae ta'en Sir hugh the grame
And led him doon through strievling toon
Fifteen o' them cried oot at ance
Sir hugh the grame he must gae doon
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
Were I to die said hugh the grame
My parents would think it a very great lack
Full fifteen feet in the air he jumped
Wi' his hands bound fast behind his back
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
Then oot and spak the lady black
And o' her will she was right free
A thousand pounds my lord I'll give
If hugh the grame set free to me
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
Haud your tongue ye lady black
And ye'll let a' your pleading be
Though ye would gie me thousands ten
It's for my honour he would die
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
Then oot it spak her lady hume
And aye a sorry woman was she
I'll gie ye a hundred milk-white steeds
Gin ye'll gie Sir hugh the grame to me
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
O haud your tongue ye lady hume
And ye'll let a' your pleading be
Though a' the grames were in this court
He should be hanged high for me
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
He lookit ower his left shoulder
It was to see what he could see
And there he saw his auld faither
Weeping and wailing bitterly
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
O haud your tongue my auld faither
And ye'll let a' your mournin' be
For if they bereave me o' my life
They canna haud the heavens frae me
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
You'll gie my brother John the sword
That's pointed with the metal clear
And bid him come at eight o'clock
And see me pay the bishop'e mear
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
And brother james tak' here the sword
That's pointed wi' the metal brown
Come up the morn at eight o'clock
And see your brother putten down
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee
Ye'll tell this news to maggie my wife
Neist time ye gang to strievling toon
She is the 'cause I lose my life
She wi' the bishop played the loon
Tay ammarey o London derry
Tay ammarey o London dee