Oor lords have tae the huntin' gane The huntin' o' the fallow deer And they hae grippit Hughie Graham For stealin' o' the bishop's mere And they hae taen him hand and fit And brocht him up through Carlisle toon The toonsfolk cried oot aw at yince Sayin', "Hugh the Graham, he maun ging doon" "Gae lowse my right hand free," he said "And pit my brand intae the same There's nane in Carlisle toon the day Daur tell the tale on Hughie Graham" And they hae brocht a coort tae sit Mangst a' their best nobility Fifteen o' them cried aw at yince "Sir Hugh the Graham, he noo maun dee" They've taen him up tae the gallows hill And he lookit up at the gallows tree Yet ne'er did color leave his cheek Nor did he even blink his ee "And ye may gie tae ma brither John My sword that's bent wi' the metal clear And bid him come at twelve o'clock Tae see me pay the bishop's mere Ye may gie tae my brither James My sword that's bent wi' the metal broon And bid him come at two o'clock Tae see his brither Hugh cut doon And ye may tell tae my kith and kin I never did disgrace their blood And if they see the bishop's cloak Tae mak it shorter by the hood"