# Bewick and Graham (1840s)/Bewick and Graham

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BEWICK AND GRAHAM
Old Graham he has to Carlisle gone, Where Sir Robert Bewick there met he, In arms to the wine they are gone, And drank till they were both merry.
Old Graham, he took up the cup, And said, brother Bewick, here's to thee,
And here's to our two sons at home, For they live best in our country
Nay, were thy son as good as mine, And of some books he could but read, With sword and buckler by his side,
To see how he could save his head;
They might have been call'd two bold brethren, Wherever they do go or ride, They might have been call'd two bold brethren, They might have crack'd the border side;
Thy son is bad, he is but a lad, And bully to my son cannot bo. I put him to school, but he would not learn, I bought him books, but ho would not read, But my blessing he shall never have, Till I see how he can save his head
​Old Graham he call'd for an account, And he asked what there was to pay- There he paid a crown, so it went round, Which was all for wine and hay.
Old Graham is to the stable gone, Whero stood thirty good steeds and three, He's taken his own steed by the head, And homo rode ho right wantonly.
When he came thero he did espy, A loving sight to spy or see, There did he espy his own threo sons, Young Christy Graham tho foremost was he.
Whero have you been all day, father, That no counsel you'll take by me? Nay, I have been at Carlisle town, Whero Sir Robert Bewick there met me,
He said thou wast bad, and call'd theo a lad, And a baffled man by thee I be: He said thou wast bad, and call'd thee a lad, And bully to his son cannot be, For his son Bewick can both write and read, And sure I cannot say that of thee.
I put theo to school, but thou wouldst not learn, I bought thee books, but thou wouldst not read, But my blessing thou shalt never have, Till with Bowick thou canst save thy head.
O! pray forbear, my father doar, That ever such a thing should be, Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that's faith and troth to me.
​What's that thou say'st, thou limmer loon, Or how dare you stand to speak to me? If thou do not end this quarrel soon, Here is my glove—thou shalt fight me.
Christy stoop'd low unto tho ground, Unto the ground, as you'll understand, O father, put on your glove again, The wind hath blown it from your hand
What's that thou say'st, thou limmer loon, How dare you stand to speak to me? If you do not end this quarrel soon, Hore is my hand, thou shalt fight me.
Christy Graham is to his chamber gone, And for to study, as well might be, Whether to fight with his father dear, Or with his bully Bewick he.
If it be my fortune my bully to kill, As you shall boldly understand, In every town that I ride through, They'll say, there rides a brotherless man,
Nay, for to kill my brother dear, I think it were a deadly sin; And for to kill my father dear, Tho blessing of Heav'n I ne'er shall win.
O give me your blessing, father, he said, And pray well for me then to thrive? If it bo my fortuno my bully to kill, I swear I shall nover como home alive.
Ho put on his back, a good old jacket, And on his head a cap of steel; ​With sword and buckler by his side, And he did become them weel.
O fare-the-well, my father dear, And fare-thee-well, thou Carlisle town, If it be my fortune my bully to kill, I swear I'll nee'r eat bread against
Now we loave off talking of Christy Graham And talk of them again, believe; But we will talk of bonny Bewick, Where he was teaching his scholars five
Now when he had learned them to fence, To handle their swords, without any doubt He's taken his sword under his arm, And walk'd his father's close about:
He look'd between him and tho sun, To see what fairlies he could see, And espied a man with armour on, As he came riding o'er the lea.
I wonder much what man yon be, That so boldly this way doth come; I think it is my nighest friend, I think it is my bully Graham.
O welcome, O welcome, my bully Graham, O man, thou art my dear, welcome, O man, thou art my dear welcome, For I love the best in Christendom.
Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bullyship let me be, The day is come that I nee'r thought on, I'm hither come to fight with thee.
​O no, not so, O bully Graham, That e'er such a word should spoken be; I was thy master, and thou wast my scholar, So well as I have learned thee.
My father, he was in Carlisle town, Where thy father Bewick there met he: He said, I was bad, and call'd me a lad, And a baffled man by you I be.
Away, away, O bully Graham, And of that talk, man, let us be; We'll take three men on either side, To see if we can our fathers agree.
Away, away, O bully Bewick, And of thy bullyship let me be; But if thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch, and fight with me.
O no, not so, my bully Graham, That e'er such a word should spoken be; Shall I venture my body in field to fight With a man that's faith and troth to mo.
Away, away, thou bully Bewick, And of care, man, let us be; If thou be a man, as I trow thou art, Come over this ditch and fight with me.
Now, if it be my fortune theo Graham to kill, As God's will, man, it all must be- If it be my fortune thee Graham to kill, 'Tis home again I'll never gae:
Thou art then of my mind, bully Bowick, And sworn brethren we will be; ​If thou be a man, as I trow thou art,
Come over this ditch and fight with me.
Ho flang his eloak from off his shouldors, His psalm-book from his poueh flang he, He clapp'd his hand upon tho hedge, And o'er lap he right wantonly.
When Graham did see his bully eomo, The salt tears stood long in his e'e, Now needs must I say, thou art a man, That dare venture thy body to fight with me.
Nay, I have a harness on my back, I know that thou hast none on thine; But as little as thou hast on thy baek, As little shall there be on mine.
He flang his jacket from off his back, His eap of steel from his head flang he, He's taken his spear into his hand, He's ty'd his horse unto a tree.
Now they fell to it with two broad swords, For two long hours fought Bewiek and he, Mueh sweat was to be seen on them both, But never a drop of blood to see.
Now Graham gavo Bewiek an awkward stroke, An awkward stroke surely struek he, Ho struck him under the left breast, Then down to the ground as dead fell he.
Arise, arise, O bully Bowiek, Arise, and speak three words to me, Is this to bo thy deadly wound, Or God and good surgeons will mend thee!
​O horse, O horse, O bully Graham, And pray do get thee far from me, Thy sword it is sharp, it hath wounded my heart, And so no farther can I gae.
O horse, O horse, O bully Graham, And get thee far from me with speed, And get thee out of this country quite, That not one may know who's done the deed.
Oh! if this be true, my bully dear, The words that thou dost tell to mo, The vow I made, and the vow I'll keep, I swear I'll bo the first to die.
Then he stuck his sword in a mould-hill, And he leapt thirty good feet and three, First he boqueath'd his soul to God, And upon his own sword leapt he.
Now Graham he was the first that died; And then Sir Robert Bewick camo to see; Arise, arise, O son, ho said, For I see thou's won the victory.
Father, could not you drink your wine at home, And letten mo and my bully be, Now dig a grave both low and wide, And in it us two pray bury? But bury my bully Graham on the sun sido, For I'm sure he's won the victory.
Now we'll leavo off talking of theso bold brethren In Carlisle town, where they were slain, And talk of these two good old men, Whero they were making a pitiful moan.
​And now up spake Sir Robert Bewick O man, was I not much to blame, I have lost one of the liveliest lads That ever was bred unto my name.
With that up spake my good Laird Graham, O man, I've lost the better block, I've lost my comfort and my joy, I've lost my key, I've lost my lock.
Had I gone through all Lauderdale, And forty horse had set on me, Had Christy Graham been at my back, So well he would have guarded me.
I have no more of my song to sing, But two or three words I will name It will bo talk'd in Carlislo town, That these two men were all the blame.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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