The Lord of Hume’s a-hunting gone,
O’er the hills and the mountains clear
And he has ta’en Sir Hugh the Graeme
For stealing of the Bishop's mare.

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

And they have taken Sir Hugh the Graeme
And led him down through Streveland town;
Fifteen of them cried out at once
Sir Hugh the Graeme he must go down

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

Then out and spoke the Lady Black
And of her words she was right free
A thousand pounds, my lord, I’ll give
If Hughie the Graeme set free to me

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

You hold your tongue, you Lady Black,
And you let all your pleadings be
Though you would give me thousands ten
It’s for my honour he would die

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

Then out and spoke the Lady Hume
And o, a sorry woman was she
I would give a hundred milk-white steeds
If you’d free Hughie the Graeme to me

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

O hold your tongue, you Lady Hume
And you let all your pleadings be
Though all the Graemes were in rhis court
Still hangèd he would be for me

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

And he looked over his left shoulder
It was to see what he could see
And there he saw his old father
Come weeping and wailing piteously

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

O hold your tongue, my old father
And you let all your mourning be
For if this day rive me of life
They cannot hold the heavens from me

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

And you’ll give 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’s mare

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

And brother James, take you the sword
That’s pointed with the metal brown
Come up the morn at eight o’clock
And see your brother putten down

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

You’ll tell this news to Maggie, my wife
The next time you come o’er the moor
She is the cause I lose my life
For with the Bishop she played whore

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

Were I to die, said Hugh the Graeme
My parents would think it a very great lack
Then fifteen feet in the air he jumped
With his hands bound fast behind his back

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee

Tae a maree o dandle derry
Tae a maree o dandle dee