Half owre, half owre to Aberdour,
It's fifty fathom deep,
And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens,
Wi' the Scots lords at his feet.
* * * * *
THE BATTLE OF OTTERBURNE.
It fell about the Lammas tide,
When muirmen win their hay,
That the doughty Earl of Douglas rade
Into England to fetch a prey.
And he has ta'en the Lindsays light,
With them the Gordons gay;
But the Jardines wad not with him ride,
And they rue it to this day.
Then they hae harried the dales o' Tyne,
And half o' Bambrough-shire,
And the Otter-dale they burned it haill,
And set it a' on fire.
Then he cam' up to New Castel,
And rade it round about:
"O who is the lord of this castel,
Or who is the lady o't?"
But up and spake Lord Percy then,
And O but he spake hie:
"It's I am the lord of this castel,
My wife is the lady gay."
"If thou'rt the lord of this castel,
Sae weel it pleases me!
For ere I cross the Border fell,
The tane of us shall dee."—
He took a lang spear in his hand,
Shod with the metal free;
And forth to meet the Douglas then,
He rade richt furiouslie.