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was a battle in the north, And nobles there was many, And they hae killd Sir Charlie Hay, And they laid the wyte on Geordie. O he has written a lang letter, He sent it to his lady: 'Ye maun cum up to Enbrugh town, To see what word's o Geordie.' When first she lookd the letter on, She was baith red and rosy; But she had na read a word but twa Till she wallowt like a lily. 'Gar get to me my gude grey steed, My menyie a' gae wi me, For I shall neither eat nor drink Till Enbrugh town shall see me.' And she has mountit her gude grey steed, Her menyie a' gaed wi her, And she did neither eat nor drink Till Enbrugh town did see her. And first appeard the fatal block, And syne the aix to head him, And Geordie cumin down the stair, And bands o airn upon him. But tho he was chaind in fetters strang, O airn and steel sae heavy, There was na ane in a' the court Sae bra a man as Geordie. O she's down on her bended knee, I wat she's pale and weary: 'O pardon, pardon, noble king, And gie me back my dearie! 'I hae born seven sons to my Geordie dear, The seventh neer saw his daddie; O pardon, pardon, noble king, Pity a waefu lady!' 'Gar bid the headin-man mak haste,' Our king reply'd fu lordly: 'O noble king, tak a' that's mine, But gie me back my Geordie!' The Gordons cam, and the Gordons ran, And they were stark and steady, And ay the word amang them a' Was, Gordons, keep you ready! An aged lord at the king's right hand Says, Noble king, but hear me; Gar her tell down five thousand pound, And gie her back her dearie. Some gae her marks, some gae her crowns, Some gae her dollars many, And she's telld down five thousand pound, And she's gotten again her dearie. She blinkit blythe in her Geordie's face, Says, Dear I've bought thee, Geordie; But there sud been bluidy bouks on the green Or I had tint my laddie. He claspit her by the middle sma, And he kist her lips sae rosy: 'The fairest flower o woman-kind Is my sweet, bonie lady!' = = ' was a battle i the north Amang our nobles many, And they have killed Sir Charles Hay, And they've taen thrae me my Geordie.' 'O where'll I gett a wi bit boy, A bonnie boy that's ready, That will gae in to my biggin With a letter to my ladie?' Then up and startit a wi bit boy, An a bonnie boy was ready: 'It's I'll gae in to your biggin Wi a letter to your ladie.' When the day was fair an the way was clear, An the wi bit boy was ready, An he's gane in to his biggin, Wi a letter to his ladie. When she lookd the letter on, She was no a wearit ladie; But when she lookit the other side, She mourned for her Geordie. 'Gar sadle to me the black,' she says, 'For the brown rade neer sey bonnie, An I'll gae down to Enbro town, An see my true-love Geordie.' When she cam to the water-side, The cobles war na ready; She's turnd her horse's head about, An in by the Queen's Ferry. When she cam to the West Port, There war poor folks many; She dealt crowns an the ducatdowns, And bade them pray for Geordie. When she cam to the Parliament Closs, There amang our nobles many, Cravats an caps war standing there, But low, low lay her Geordie. When she gaed up the tolbooth-stairs, Amang our nobles manie, The napkin's tyed oer Geordie's face, And the gallows makin ready. 'O wad ye hae his lands or rents? Or wad ye hae his monie? Take a', a' frae him but his sark alone, Lesve me my true-love Geordie.' The captain pu'd her on his knee, An ca'd her heart an honey: 'An ye wad wait se'en years for me, Ye wad never jump for Geordie.' 'O hold your tongue, you foolish man, Your speech it's a' but folly; For an ye wad wait till the day ye die, I wad neer take John for Geordie.' 'Twas up and spak the Lord Corstarph, The ill gae wi his body! 'O Geordie's neck it war on a block, Gif I had his fair ladie!' 'O haud yer tongue, ye foolish man, Yer speech is a' but folly; For if Geordie's neck war on a block, Ye soud neer enjoy his ladie. 'It's I hae se'en weel gawn mills, I wait they a' gang daily; I'll gie them a' an amang ye a' For the sparin o my Geordie. 'I hae ele'en bairns i the wast, I wait the're a' to Geordie; I'd see then a' streekit afore mine eyes Afore I lose my Geordie. 'I hae ele'en bairns i the wast, The twalt bears up my body; The youngest's on his nurse's knee, An he never saw his dadie.