Hughie Grime

Good Lord Scroope's to the hunting gone
And he has ridden o'er moss and moor
All for to take bold Hughie Grime
For stealing the Bishop of Carlisle's mare

"Turn, turn, thou traitor thief
Turn and yield thyself unto me
For thou hast stolen the Lord Bishop's mare
And now thou thinkest away to flee"

"My good Lord Scroope, this may not be
Here hangs a broadsword by my side
And if thou canst but conquer me
The matter it may soon be tried"

"I'm not afraid of a traitor thief
Although thy name be Hughie Grime
I'll make thee repent thee of thy deeds
If God but grant me life and time"

But as they dealt their blows so free
And both so bloody at that time
Over the moss came ten yeomen so tall
And they have gripped bold Hughie Grime

And they have bound up Hughie Grime
And led him in through Carlisle town
The lads and lasses stood on the walls
Crying, "Hughie Graeme, ye'll never go down."

And they have chosen a jury of men
The best that were in Carlisle town
And twelve of them did speak as one
Saying, "Hughie Grime, ye must go down."

But up and spoke the good Lord Boles
Was sitting at the judge's knee
"Twenty white oxen, my good lord,
if ye'll let Hughie Grime go free."

"Oh no, oh no, the Bishop said,
and ye'll let all this pleading be
Though there were but three Grimes of the name
He should be hanged high for me."

Then up and spoke the good Lady Ward
As she sat on the bench so high
"A peck of white pennies, my good lord judge
If ye'll let Hughie Grime go free.

And if it be not full enough
I'll stroke it up with my silver fan
And if it be not full enough
I'll heap it up with my own hand."

"Oh no, oh no, my good Lady Ward
and ye'll let all thy speeches be
through there were but one Grime of the name
it's for my honor he would die."

Hughie Grime's condemned to die
Though of his friends there was no lack
Then he jumped fourteen feet and three
With his hands bound fast behind his back.

And he looked over his left shoulder
It was to see what he could see
And there he spied his old mother
Weeping and wailing, "oh, woe is me."

"Peace, peace, now mother dear
And see that ye don't weep for me
Thy weeping's sorer on my heart
Than all that they can do to me."

Then he looked over his right shoulder
It was to see what he might see
And there he spied his old father
Come tearing his hair most piteously

"Peace, peace now, father dear
And see that ye don't mourn for me
Though they may ravish me of my life
They cannot banish me from heaven high

"Remember me to Maggie my wife
The next time ye cross oe'r the moor
T'was she bereaved me of my life
And with the Bishop, she played the ****.

"I leave my brother John the sword
That's pointed with the metal clear
And bid him come at 8 of the clock
And see me pay for the Bishop's mare."