The English and Scottish popular ballads…
“ For if they bereave me of my life,They cannot bereave me of the heavens so high.’ 13Sir Hugh in the Grime lookd out at the door,Oh, what a sorry heart had he!There [he] spy’d his mother dear,Weeping and wailing ‘Oh, woe is me!’ 14‘Hold your tongue now, mother dear,And of your weeping let it be!For if they bereave me of my life,They cannot bereave me of heaven’s fee. 15‘I’ll leave my sword to Johnny ArmstrongThat is made of mettal so fine,That when he comes to the border-sideHe may think of Hugh in the Grime.’ EBuchan’s MSS, I, 53. ”
