They came upon him one by one,
Till fourteen battles he has won;
And fourteen men he has them slain,
Each after each upon the plain.
But the fifteenth man behind stole round,
And dealt him a deep and a deadly wound.
Though he was wounded to the deid,
He set his lady on her steed.
They rode till they came to the river Doune,
And there they lighted to wash his wound.
‘O, Earl Brand, I see your heart’s blood!’
‘It’s nothing but the glent and my scarlet hood.’
They rode till they came to his mother’s yett,
So faint and feebly he rapped thereat.
‘O, my son’s slain, he is falling to swoon,
And it’s all for the sake of an English loon.’
‘O, say not so, my dearest mother,
But marry her to my youngest brother—
‘To a maiden true he’ll give his hand,
Hey lillie, ho lillie lallie.