BARTRAM'S DIRGE (anon.)

They shot him dead at Ninestone Bridge
Beside the Headless Cross.
They left him lying in his blood
Among the moor and moss.

They made a bier of the broken bough,
The sauch and aspen grey.
They bore him to the Lady Chapel
And waked him there all day.

A lady came to this lonely bower,
She cast her robes aside,
She tore her lovely golden hair
And knelt by Bartram's side.

She bathed him in the Lady Well,
His wounds so deep and sair.
She made a garland for his breast
And a garland for his hair.

They rolled him in a lily sheet
And bore him to his earth
And a greyfriar sang the Dead Man's Mass
As they passed the chapel garth.

They buried him at the mirk midnight
When the air was cold and still,
When the aspen grey forgot to play
And the mist clung to the hill.

They dug his grave but one foot deep
At the edge of Ninestone Burn.
They covered him over with heather flowers,
With moss and lady fern.

The greyfriar stayed upon the grave
And sang till morning tide
And a friar shall sing for Bartram's soul
While the Headless Cross shall bide.

I read this in a book some years ago, and it stuck in
my head even after the first reading.
Unfortunately I forgot what book it was. But I do
remember that the author is not known.
To me it feels like a Border Reiver Ballad...

NG