206. Bothwell Bridge
206a: Bothwell Bridge
206a.1 O Billie, billie, bonny billie,
Will ye go to the wood wi me?
Well ca our horse hame masterless,
An gar them trow slain men are we.
206a.2 O no, O no! says Earlstoun,
For thats the thing that maunna be;
For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill,
Where I maun either gae or die.
206A.3 So Earlstoun rose in the morning,
An mounted by the break o day,
An he has joind our Scottish lads,
As they were marching out the way.
206A.4 Now, farewell, father! and farewell, mother!
An fare ye weel, my sisters three!
An fare ye well, my Earlstoun!
For thee again Ill never see.
206A.5 So theyre awa to Bothwell Hill,
An waly, they rode bonnily!
When the Duke o Monmouth saw them comin,
He went to view their company.
206A.6 Yere welcome, lads, then Monmouth said,
Yere welcome, brave Scots lads, to me;
And sae are you, brave Earlstoun,
The foremost o your company.
206A.7 But yield your weapons ane an a,
O yield your weapons, lads, to me;
For, gin yell yield your weapons up,
Yese a gae hame to your country.
206A.8 Out then spak a Lennox lad,
And waly, but he spoke bonnily!
I winna yield my weapons up,
To you nor nae man that I see.
206A.9 Then he set up the flag o red,
A set about wi bonny blue:
Since yell no cease, and be at peace,
See that ye stand by ither true.
206a.10 They stelld their cannons on the height,
And showrd their shot down in the how,
An beat our Scots lads even down;
Thick they lay slain on every know.
206a.11 As eer you saw the rain down fa,
Or yet the arrow frae the bow,
Sae our Scottish lads fell even down,
An they lay slain on every know.
206a.12 O hold your hand, the Monmouth cryd,
Gie quarters to yon men for me;
But wicked Claverhouse swore an oath
His cornets death revengd sud be.
206a.13 O hold your hand, Monmouth cryd,
If ony thing youll do for me;
Hold up your hand, you cursed Gra+eme,
Else a rebel to our king yell be.
206a.14 Then wicked Claverhouse turnd about
I wot an angry man was he
And he has lifted up his hat,
And cryd, God bless his Majesty!
206a.15 Than hes awa to London town,
Ay een as fast as he can dree;
Fause witnesses he has wi him taen,
An taen Monmouths head frae his body.
206a.16 Alang the brae beyond the brig,
Mony brave man lies cauld and still;
But lang well mind, and sair well rue,
The bloody battle of Bothwell Hill.
206a.1 O Billie, billie, bonny billie,
Will ye go to the wood wi me?
Well ca our horse hame masterless,
An gar them trow slain men are we.
206a.2 O no, O no! says Earlstoun,
For thats the thing that maunna be;
For I am sworn to Bothwell Hill,
Where I maun either gae or die.
206A.3 So Earlstoun rose in the morning,
An mounted by the break o day,
An he has joind our Scottish lads,
As they were marching out the way.
206A.4 Now, farewell, father! and farewell, mother!
An fare ye weel, my sisters three!
An fare ye well, my Earlstoun!
For thee again Ill never see.
206A.5 So theyre awa to Bothwell Hill,
An waly, they rode bonnily!
When the Duke o Monmouth saw them comin,
He went to view their company.
206A.6 Yere welcome, lads, then Monmouth said,
Yere welcome, brave Scots lads, to me;
And sae are you, brave Earlstoun,
The foremost o your company.
206A.7 But yield your weapons ane an a,
O yield your weapons, lads, to me;
For, gin yell yield your weapons up,
Yese a gae hame to your country.
206A.8 Out then spak a Lennox lad,
And waly, but he spoke bonnily!
I winna yield my weapons up,
To you nor nae man that I see.
206A.9 Then he set up the flag o red,
A set about wi bonny blue:
Since yell no cease, and be at peace,
See that ye stand by ither true.
206a.10 They stelld their cannons on the height,
And showrd their shot down in the how,
An beat our Scots lads even down;
Thick they lay slain on every know.
206a.11 As eer you saw the rain down fa,
Or yet the arrow frae the bow,
Sae our Scottish lads fell even down,
An they lay slain on every know.
206a.12 O hold your hand, the Monmouth cryd,
Gie quarters to yon men for me;
But wicked Claverhouse swore an oath
His cornets death revengd sud be.
206a.13 O hold your hand, Monmouth cryd,
If ony thing youll do for me;
Hold up your hand, you cursed Gra+eme,
Else a rebel to our king yell be.
206a.14 Then wicked Claverhouse turnd about
I wot an angry man was he
And he has lifted up his hat,
And cryd, God bless his Majesty!
206a.15 Than hes awa to London town,
Ay een as fast as he can dree;
Fause witnesses he has wi him taen,
An taen Monmouths head frae his body.
206a.16 Alang the brae beyond the brig,
Mony brave man lies cauld and still;
But lang well mind, and sair well rue,
The bloody battle of Bothwell Hill.
