—There's grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha';
But the Baron o' Brackley is dead and awa.
THE BARON OF BRAIKLEY.
Buchan's Gleanings, p. 68, taken from Scarce Ancient Ballads, p. 9.
Inverey came down Deeside whistlin an playin,
He was at brave Braikley's yett ere it was dawin;
He rappit fou loudly, an wi a great roar,
Cried, "Cum down, cum down, Braikley, an open the door.
"Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakin?5
Ther's sharp swords at your yett will gar your bluid spin:
Open the yett, Braikley, an lat us within,
Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin."
Out spak the brave Baronne owre the castell wa,
"Are ye come to spulzie an plunder my ha?10
But gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum in,
Gin ye drink o' my wine ye'll nae gar my bluid spin.
"Gin ye be hir'd widdifus, ye may gang by,
Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky;
Ther spulzie like revers o' wyld kettrin clan,15
Wha plunder unsparing baith houses and lan'.