It fell about the Martinmas,
When the wind blew shrill and cauld,
Said Edom o' Gordon to his men,
"We maun draw till a hauld.
"And what a hauld sall we draw till,
My merry men and me?
We wull gae to the house o' the Rode,
To see that fair lad-ie."
The ladie stude on her castle wa',
Beheld baith dale and down:
There she was ware of a host of men
Come riding towards the toun.
"O see ye nat, my merry men a'?
O see ye nat what I see?
Methinks I see a host of men:
I marvel wha they be!"
She weened it had been her luvely lord,
As he came riding hame;
It was the traitor Edom o' Gordon,
Wha recked nae sin nor shame.
She had nae sooner buskit hersel,
And putten on her goun,
But Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were round about the toun.
They had nae sooner supper set,
Nae sooner said the grace,
But Edom o' Gordon and his men
Were light about the place.
The lady ran up to her tower head,
Sae fast as she could hie,
To see if by her fair speech-es
She could wi' him agree.
But whan he see this lady saif,
And her gat-es all locked fast,
He fell into a rage of wrath,
And his look was all aghast.
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