Sir Hugh in the Grimes Downfall.
OR A
New Song made on Sir Hugh in the Grime, who
was Hangd for stealing the Bishops Mare.
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GOOD Lord John is a hunting gone,
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Over the Hills and Dales so far,
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For to take Sir Hugh in the Grime.
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For stealing of the Bishops Mare-
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He derry derry down.
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Hugh in the Grime was taken then,
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And Carried to Carlisle town;
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the merry Women came out amain,
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Saying the name of Grime shall never go down
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He derry derry dow
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O then a Jury of Women was brought,
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Of the best that could be found
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Eleven of them spoke all at once,
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Saying the name of Grime shall never go down
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he derry derry down
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And then a Jury of men was brought,
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More the pity for to be;
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Eleven of them spoke all at once,
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Saying Hugh in the Grime you are guilty etc
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Hugh in the Grime was Cast to be hangd,
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Many of his Friends did for him leet,
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For 15 foot in the Prisin he did Jump,
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With his hands tyed fast behind his back etc.
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then bespoke our good lady Ward,
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As she set on the Bench so high,
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A peck of white pennys ill give to my lord
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If hell grant Hugh Grime to me, he etc.
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And if it be not full enough,
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Ill stroke it up with my Silver Fan,
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And if it be not full enough,
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Ill heap it up with my own hand, etc.
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Hold your tongue now lady Ward,
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And of Your talkitive let it be
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there is never a Grime came in this Court
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That at thy biding shall saved be,
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then bespoke our good lady Moor,
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As she sat on the Bench so high
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A Yoke of Fat Oxen ill give to my lord
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If hell grant Hugh Grime to me, etc.
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Hold Your tongue now good lady Moor,
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and of Your talkitive let it be,
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there is never a Grime came to this Court,
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that at thy biding shall saved be, etc.
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Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out of the door
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With his hand out of the Bar,
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there he spyd his Father dear
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tearing of his Golden Hair. he derry, etc
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Hold your Tongue good Father dear,
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And of your weeping let it be
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For if they hereave me of my life;
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they cannot bereave me of the Heavens so high
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Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out at the door
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Oh! what a sorry heart had he
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There spyd his Mother dear,
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Weeping and wailing Oh! woe is me, etc.
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Hold Your tongue now Mother dear
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And of Your weeping let it be;
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For if they bereave me of my life,
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they cannot bereave me of Heavens Fee, etc.
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Ill leave my Sword to Johnny Armstrong
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That is made of Mettal so fine:
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That when he comes to the Border side;
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he may think of Hugh in the Grime. he derry etc
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