Parcy Reed
O P ARCY Reed has Crozer ta'en
And has deliver'd him to the law;
But Crozer says he'll do warse than that
For he'll gar the tower of the Troughend fa'.
And Crozer says he will do warse,
He will do warse if warse can be;
For he'll make the bairns a' fatherless,
And then the land it may lie lea.
O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid,
But he had better have staid at hame;
For the three fause Ha's of Girsenfield
Alang with him he has them ta'en.
He 's hunted up and he 's hunted down,
He 's hunted a' the water of Reed,
Till wearydness has on him ta'en,
I' the Baitinghope he 's fa'en asleep.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And the fause, fause Ha's o' Girsenfield,
They'll never be trowed nor trusted again.
They've ta'en frae him his powther-bag
And they've put water i' his lang gun;
They've put the sword into the sheathe
That out again it'll never come.
Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed,
For I do fear ye've slept owre lang;
For yonder are the five Crozers
A coming owre by the hinging-stane.
If they be five and we be four,
If that ye will stand true to me,
If every man ye will take one,
Ye surely will leave two to me.
O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha',
O turn now, man, and fight wi' me;
If ever ye come to Troughend again
A good black nag I will gie to thee;
He cost me twenty pounds o' gowd
Atween my brother John and me.
I winna turn, I canna turn,
I darena turn and fight wi' thee,
For they will find out Parcy Reed
And then they'll kill baith thee and me.
O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha',
O turn [now,] man, and fight wi' me,
And if ever ye come to the Troughend again
A yoke of owsen I will gie thee.
I winna turn, I canna turn,
I darena turn and fight wi' thee,
For they will find out Parcy Reed
And they will kill baith thee and me.
O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha',
O turn now, man, and fight wi' me,
If ever ye come to the Troughend again
My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee.
I winna turn, I darena turn,
I winna turn and fight with thee,
For they will find out Parcy Reed
And then they'll kill baith thee and me.
O woe be to ye, traitors a',
I wish England ye may never win;
Ye've left me in the field to stand,
And in my hand an uncharged gun.
Ye've ta'en frae me my powther-bag,
And ye've put water i' my lang gun;
Ye've put the sword into the sheath
That out again it'll never come.
O fare ye weel, my married wife,
And fare ye weel, my brother John,
That sits into the Troughend ha'
Wi' heart as black as any stone.
O fare ye weel, my married wife,
And fare ye weel now, my sons five;
For had ye been wi' me this day
I surely had been man alive.
O fare ye weel, my married wife,
And fare ye weel now, my sons five;
And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean,
I loved ye best ye were born alive.
O some do ca' me Parcy Reed
And some do ca' me Laird Troughend;
But it 's nae matter what they ca' me,
My faes have made me ill to ken.
The laird o' Clennel wears my bow,
The laird o' Brandon wears my brand;
Whae ever rides i' the Border side
Will mind the laird o' the Troughend.
And has deliver'd him to the law;
But Crozer says he'll do warse than that
For he'll gar the tower of the Troughend fa'.
And Crozer says he will do warse,
He will do warse if warse can be;
For he'll make the bairns a' fatherless,
And then the land it may lie lea.
O Parcy Reed has ridden a raid,
But he had better have staid at hame;
For the three fause Ha's of Girsenfield
Alang with him he has them ta'en.
He 's hunted up and he 's hunted down,
He 's hunted a' the water of Reed,
Till wearydness has on him ta'en,
I' the Baitinghope he 's fa'en asleep.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
And the fause, fause Ha's o' Girsenfield,
They'll never be trowed nor trusted again.
They've ta'en frae him his powther-bag
And they've put water i' his lang gun;
They've put the sword into the sheathe
That out again it'll never come.
Awaken ye, awaken ye, Parcy Reed,
For I do fear ye've slept owre lang;
For yonder are the five Crozers
A coming owre by the hinging-stane.
If they be five and we be four,
If that ye will stand true to me,
If every man ye will take one,
Ye surely will leave two to me.
O turn, O turn, O Johny Ha',
O turn now, man, and fight wi' me;
If ever ye come to Troughend again
A good black nag I will gie to thee;
He cost me twenty pounds o' gowd
Atween my brother John and me.
I winna turn, I canna turn,
I darena turn and fight wi' thee,
For they will find out Parcy Reed
And then they'll kill baith thee and me.
O turn, O turn now, Willie Ha',
O turn [now,] man, and fight wi' me,
And if ever ye come to the Troughend again
A yoke of owsen I will gie thee.
I winna turn, I canna turn,
I darena turn and fight wi' thee,
For they will find out Parcy Reed
And they will kill baith thee and me.
O turn, O turn, O Thommy Ha',
O turn now, man, and fight wi' me,
If ever ye come to the Troughend again
My daughter Jean I'll gie to thee.
I winna turn, I darena turn,
I winna turn and fight with thee,
For they will find out Parcy Reed
And then they'll kill baith thee and me.
O woe be to ye, traitors a',
I wish England ye may never win;
Ye've left me in the field to stand,
And in my hand an uncharged gun.
Ye've ta'en frae me my powther-bag,
And ye've put water i' my lang gun;
Ye've put the sword into the sheath
That out again it'll never come.
O fare ye weel, my married wife,
And fare ye weel, my brother John,
That sits into the Troughend ha'
Wi' heart as black as any stone.
O fare ye weel, my married wife,
And fare ye weel now, my sons five;
For had ye been wi' me this day
I surely had been man alive.
O fare ye weel, my married wife,
And fare ye weel now, my sons five;
And fare ye weel, my daughter Jean,
I loved ye best ye were born alive.
O some do ca' me Parcy Reed
And some do ca' me Laird Troughend;
But it 's nae matter what they ca' me,
My faes have made me ill to ken.
The laird o' Clennel wears my bow,
The laird o' Brandon wears my brand;
Whae ever rides i' the Border side
Will mind the laird o' the Troughend.
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