The Douglas Tragedy

Rise up, rise up, Lord Douglas, she cried
And put on your armour bright,
Let it never be said that a dochter o' yours
Was married to a Lord or knight.

Rise up, rise up, my seven bonnie sons,
And put on your armour bright,
And tak' better care o' your younger sister,
For the eldest's awa' last night.

Lord William looked ower his broad shouther,
It made him blink his e'e,
And there he saw her seven brothers
Riding ower the lea.

Get doon, get doon, Lady Margaret, he said,
And tak' my horse in your hand,
For I must fight your seven brothers
And against your faither stand.

She took his horse in her milk-white hand,
And never a tear did fa',
Until she saw her seven brothers slain
And her faither like to fa'.

O haud your hand, Lord William, she said
For your straikes are wondrous sair,
There's mony a lad that I can get
But a faither I'll never get mair.

Then choose, then choose, Lady Margaret he said,
Ye maun choose for to gang or bide.
I'll ride wi' you, Lord William, she said,
For you've left me no other guide.

They rode on and further on,
They rode by the light of the moon,
Until they cam' to the bonnie burn side,
And there they hae lichted doon.

He lichted doon to tak' a drink
Of the water that ran sae clear,
An' doon the stream ran his hairt's blood,
And sair she began to fear.

Rise up, rise up, Lord William, she said,
For I fear that ye are slain.
Tis nothing but the shadow of my scarlet coat,
That shines in the water sae plain.

They rode on and further on,
They rode by the licht of the moon,
Until they cam' to his mither's ha' door,
And there they hae lichted doon.

Rise up, rise up, lady mither, he said,
O rise and let us in,
Rise up, rise up, lady mither, he said,
Lady Margaret I have won.

Ye'll mak' my bed baith lang and wide,
Ye'll mak' it saft and deep,
And lay my true love at my side,
That the soonder we may sleep.

Lord William died in the middle of the night,
And Margaret she died on the morrow;
Lord William died for the sake o' his bride,
Lady Margaret she died for sorrow.

Lord William was buried in the old Kirkyard,
Lady Margaret in Mary's quire,
On the yere there grew a bonnie myrtle tree,
On the other a bonnie sweet briar.

They grew and they grew and sae high and high they grew
Till they could grow no higher,
And they grew together in a true-love knot
For true-lovers tae admire.