Robert Burns

Gilnockie Tower, being approached by border reivers from a 19th century print.

Brackenhill Pele Tower, built in 1584 by Ritchie Graham.

Hughie Graham" or "Hughie Graeme" is a border ballad collected by Robert Burns.There is a printed version in the Bodleian Library under the title "The Life and Death of Sir Hugh The Grime", dated between 1672 and 1696. The Burns version was printed in 1803.

The story concerns Hughie Graham a infamous border reiver. He is captured stealing the bishop's horse and sentenced to hang on the gallows. There are pleas made to ransom him which are rejected. In the last lines of the ballad he sends greetings to his father, and offers his sword to Johnnie Armstrong, and a curse to his wife who he appears to blame for betraying him with the bishop.

HUGHIE GRAME (Hughie the Graeme)

The Laird o' Hume he's a huntin' gone
Over the hills and mountains clear,
And he has ta'en Sir Hugh the Grame
For stealin' o' the Bishop's mear.

chorus-

Tay ammarey, O Londonderry
Tay ammarey, O London dee.

They hae ta'en Sir Hugh the Grame
And led him doon through Strievling toon,
Fifteen o' them cried oot at ance,
"Sir Hugh the Grame he must gae doon!"

"Were I to die," said Hugh the Grame
"My parents would think it a very great lack"
Full fifteen feet in the air he jumped
Wi' his hands bound fast behind his back.
Then oot and spak the Lady Black,
And o' her will she was right free,
"A thousand pounds, my lord, I'll give
If Hugh the Grame set free to me."

"Haud your tongue, ye Lady Black
And ye'll let a' your pleading be!
Though ye would gie me thousands ten
It's for my honour he would die."

Then oot it spak her Lady Hume
And aye a sorry woman was she,
"I'll gie ye a hundred milk-white steeds
Gin ye'll gie Sir Hugh the Grame to me."

"O Haud your tongue, ye Lady Hume
And ye'll let a' your pleading be!
Though a' the Grames were in this court,
He should be hanged high for me."

He lookit ower his left shoulder
It was to see what he could see,
And there he saw his auld faither
Weeping and wailing bitterly.

"O, haud your tongue, my auld faither
And ye'll let a' your mournin' be!
For if they bereave me o' my life
They canna haud the heavens frae me."

"You'll gie my brother, John, the sword
That's pointed with the metal clear,
And bid him come at eight o'clock
And see me pay the Bishop'e mear."

"And brother James, tak' here the sword
That's pointed wi' the metal brown
Come up the morn at eight o'clock
And see your brother putten down."

Ye'll tell this news to Maggie, my wife
Neist time ye gang to Strievling toon,
She is the cause I lose my life
She wi' the Bishop played the loon.

Sheriffmuir

A 18th century painting of the Battle of Sherriffmuir by unknown Dutch artist. 

The Battle of Sheriffmuir took place on 13 November 1715, during the Jacobite Rising of 1715 on behalf of James Edward Stuart (the Old Pretender) who aimed to gain the thrones of Scotland, England and Ireland.On August 27th, 1715, at Braemar, Aberdeenshire,  the Earl of Mar raised the Jacobite standard. He set out to capture Stirling Castle, but was checked by the much-outnumbered Hanoverians, commanded by the Duke of Argyll, at Sheriffmuir on 13 November. There was no clear result, but the Earl of Mar wrongly believed that he had won and left the field, however his decision not to link with the Jacobites in England badly damaged the campaign.

 James would arrive in Peterhead in December, but the failure of the Jacobites in England, the arrival of thousands of Dutch troops, and the growing strenght of the Hanoverians in Scotland against diminishing numbers of Jacobites, compelled James to sail from Montrose in January and return to the continent. 

 The Battle of Sherramuir (Sheriffmuir) Robert Burns c.1790

O, cam ye here the fight to shun,

Or herd the sheep wi' me, man?
Or were ye at the Sherra-moor,
Or did the battle see, man?'
I saw the battle, sair and teugh,
And reekin-red ran monie a sheugh;
My heart for fear gae sough for sough,
To hear the thuds, and see the cluds
O' clans frae woods in tartan duds,
Wha glaum'd at kingdoms three, man

The red-coat lads wi' black cockauds
To meet them were na slaw, man
They rush'd and push'd and bluid outgush'd,
And monie a bouk did fa', man!
The great Argyle led on his files,
I wat they glanc'd for twenty miles;
They hough'd the clans like nine-pin kyles,
They hack'd and hash'd, while braid-swords clash'd,
And thro' they dash'd, and hew'd and smash'd,
Till fey men died awa, man.

But had ye seen the philibegs
And skyrin tartan trews, man,
When in the teeth they daur'd our Whigs
And Covenant trueblues, man!
In lines extended lang and large,
When baig'nets o'erpower'd the targe,
And thousands hasten'd tae the charge,
Wi' Hieland wrath they frae the sheath
Drew blades o' death, till out o' breath
They fled like frighted dows, man

They've lost some gallant gentlemen,
Amang the Highland clans, man!
I fear my Lord Panmure is slain,
Or in his en'mies' hands, man.
Now wad ye sing this double flight,
Some fell for wrang, and some for right,
But monie bade the world guid-night:
Say, pell and mell, wi' muskets' knell
How Tories fell, and Whigs to Hell
Flew off in frighted bands, man

Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation

(By Walter Thomas Monnington (1902-1976), The signing of the Act of Union, 1707)

Such a Parcel of Rogues in a Nation

Fareweel to a' our Scottish fame,

Fareweel our ancient glory;

Fareweel ev'n to the Scottish name,

Sae fam'd in martial story.

Now Sark rins over Solway sands,

An' Tweed rins to the ocean,

To mark where England's province stands-

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

What force or guile could not subdue,

Thro' many warlike ages,

Is wrought now by a coward few,

For hireling traitor's wages.

The English steel we could disdain,

Secure in valour's station;

But English gold has been our bane -

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

O would, ere I had seen the day

That Treason thus could sell us,

My auld grey head had lien in clay,

Wi' Bruce and loyal Wallace!

But pith and power, till my last hour,

I'll mak this declaration;

We're bought and sold for English gold-

Such a parcel of rogues in a nation!

Robert Burns was born on 25 January 1759, on a dark and windy night in the village of Alloway in Ayrshire. He was born the son of poor tenant farmers and was the eldest of seven children. A good education allowed him to pursue his artistic ambitions, and in the course of his life he wrote and composed a immense collection of poetry and songs that have been recited and sang for over 200 years and across the globe. 

Recognised as Scotland's national poet and a hero and inspiration to millions throughout the ages, in his birthplace of Alloway there is a museum dedicated to him which attracts thousands of visitors per year.

 His song "Auld Lang Syne" is often sung at Hogmanay (the last day of the year), and at New Year celebrations across  the world. His song "Scots Wha Hae" was once considered the unofficial  national anthem of the country. Other  songs and poems known across the world; "A Parcel of Rogues in a Nation",  "A Red, Red Rose" (which Bob Dylan once cited as a major inspiration in his song writing), "A Man's a Man for A' That", "To a Louse", "To a Mouse", "The Battle of Sherramuir", "Tam o' Shanter" and "Ae Fond Kiss".

At the young age of 37 he would die on July 21, 1796 at his home in Dumfries

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