Volume 6 / Book 6 — BOOK VI. (continued 3)
Reading edition
This ballad was first printed in the North Countrie Garland, p. 4, and afterwards with a few slight corrections in Motherwell's Minstrelsy, having in both cases been furnished by Mr. C. K. Sharpe. The tragic story was celebrated by one Arthur Johnston, a contemporary scholar, in two Latin poems, the one entitled, Querela Sophiæ Hay, dominæ de Melgeine, de morte mariti, and the other, De Johanne Gordonio, Vicecomite de Melgeine, el Johanne Gordonio de Rothemay, in arce Frendriaca combustis (Finlay, i. 67). In Herd's Collection (i. 199) is a modern piece on the subject called Frennet Hall, in the detestable style of the last century. This very feeble production is also to be found in Ritson's Scottish Songs (ii. 31), Johnson's Museum, and elsewhere. But Ritson gives these few stanzas of an excellent old ballad, as remembered by the Rev. Mr. Boyd, the translator of Dante:
The reek it rose, and the flame it flew, And oh the fire augmented high, Until it came to Lord John's chamber-window, And to the bed where Lord John lay. "O help me, help me, Lady Frennet! I never ettled harm to thee; And if my father slew my lord, Forget the deed and rescue me." He looked east, he looked west, To see if any help was nigh; At length his little page he saw, Who to his lord aloud did cry. "Loup doun, loup doun, my master dear! What though the window's dreigh and hie? I'll catch you in my arms twa, And never a foot from you I'll flee." "How can I loup, you little page, How can I leave this window hie? Do you not see the blazing low, And my twa legs burnt to my knee?"
The eighteenth of October, A dismal tale to hear, How good Lord John and Rothiemay Was both burnt in the fire. When steeds was saddled and well bridled, And ready for to ride, Then out it came her, false Frendraught, Inviting them to bide. Said,—"Stay this night untill we sup, The morn untill we dine;10 'Twill be a token of good 'greement 'Twixt your good Lord and mine." "We'll turn again," said good Lord John;— "But no," said Rothiemay,— "My steed's trapan'd, my bridle's broken,15 I fear the day I'm fey." When mass was sung, and bells was rung, And all men bound for bed, Then good Lord John and Rothiemay In one chamber was laid.20 They had not long cast off their cloaths, And were but now asleep, When the weary smoke began to rise, Likewise the scorching heat. "O waken, waken, Rothiemay!25 O waken, brother dear! And turn you to our Saviour; There is strong treason here." When they were dressed in their cloaths, And ready for to boun,30 The doors and windows was all secur'd, The roof-tree burning down. He did him to the wire-window, As fast as he could gang; Says,—"Wae to the hands put in the stancheons,35 For out we'll never win." When he stood at the wire-window, Most doleful to be seen, He did espy her, Lady Frendraught, Who stood upon the green.40 Cried,—"Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught! Will ye not sink with sin? For first your husband killed my father, And now you burn his son." O then out spoke her, Lady Frendraught,45 And loudly did she cry,— "It were great pity for good Lord John, But none for Rothiemay. But the keys are casten in the deep draw well, Ye cannot get away."50 While he stood in this dreadful plight, Most piteous to be seen, There called out his servant Gordon, As he had frantic been. "O loup, O loup, my dear master,55 O loup and come to me! I'll catch you in my arms two; One foot I will not flee. "O loup, O loup, my dear master, O loup and come away!60 I'll catch you in my arms two, But Rothiemay may lie." "The fish shall never swim in the flood, Nor corn grow through the clay, Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled65 Twin me and Rothiemay. "But I cannot loup, I cannot come, I cannot win to thee; My head's fast in the wire-window, My feet burning from me.70 "My eyes are seething in my head, My flesh roasting also, My bowels are boiling with my blood; Is not that a woeful woe? "Take here the rings from my white fingers75 That are so long and small, And give them to my lady fair, Where she sits in her hall. "So I cannot loup, I cannot come, I cannot loup to thee;80 My earthly part is all consumed, My spirit but speaks to thee." Wringing her hands, tearing her hair, His lady she was seen, And thus addressed his servant Gordon,85 Where he stood on the green. "O wae be to you, George Gordon, An ill death may you die! So safe and sound as you stand there, And my lord bereaved from me."90 "I bad him loup, I bad him come, I bad him loup to me; I'd catch him in my arms two, A foot I should not flee. &c. "He threw me the rings from his white fingers,95 Which were so long and small, To give to you, his lady fair, Where you sat in your hall." &c. Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay, O bonny Sophia was her name,—100 Her waiting maid put on her cloaths, But I wot she tore them off again. And aft she cried, "Ohon! alas, alas! A sair heart's ill to win; I wan a sair heart when I married him,105 And the day it's well return'd again."
THE BONNIE HOUSE O' AIRLY.
Finlay's Scottish Ballads, ii. 31.
The Earl of Airly, a nobleman zealously attached to the cause of King Charles, withdrew from Scotland in order to avoid subscribing the Covenant, leaving his eldest son Lord Ogilvie at home. The Committee of Estates, hearing that Airly had fled the country, directed the Earls of Montrose and Kinghorn to take possession of his castle, but in this, owing to the exceeding strength of the place, they did not succeed. Subsequently the Earl of Argyle, a personal enemy of the Earl of Airly, was charged with the same commission, and raised an army of five thousand men to carry out his trust. Lord Ogilvie was unable to hold out against such a force, and abandoned his father's stronghold, which, as well as his own residence of Forthar, was plundered and utterly destroyed by Argyle. Lady Ogilvie is said to have been pregnant at the time of the burning of Forthar, and to have undergone considerable danger before she could find proper refuge. She never had, however, more than one son, though she is endowed with no fewer than ten by the ballads. According to one account, the event here celebrated took place in 1639; another assigns it to 1640. (Napier's Montrose and the Covenanters, i. 533.)
The Bonnie House of Airly was first printed in Finlay's Scottish Ballads. Other copies are given in Cromek's Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, p. 225; Smith's Scottish Minstrel, ii. 2; Hogg's Jacobite Relics, ii. 152; Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 59; and Kinloch's Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 104.
A modern attempt on the same theme may be seen in Hogg's Jacobite Relics, ii. 411. Allan Cunningham, misled by the Ogilvies' continuing to the Pretender the devotion they exhibited to the Royal Martyr and his son, has transferred the burning of Airly to the 18th century. See his Young Airly, in Cromek's Remains, p. 196, and, rewritten, in The Songs of Scotland, iii. 218.
It fell on a day, and a bonnie summer day, When the corn grew green and yellow, That there fell out a great dispute Between Argyle and Airly. The Duke o' Montrose has written to Argyle5 To come in the morning early, An' lead in his men, by the back o' Dunkeld, To plunder the bonnie house o' Airly. The lady look'd o'er her window sae hie, And O but she looked weary!10 And there she espied the great Argyle Come to plunder the bonnie house o' Airly. "Come down, come down, Lady Margaret," he says, "Come down and kiss me fairly, Or before the morning clear daylight,15 I'll no leave a standing stane in Airly." "I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, I wadna kiss thee fairly, I wadna kiss thee, great Argyle, Gin you shoudna leave a standing stane in Airly."20 He has ta'en her by the middle sae sma', Says, "Lady, where is your drury?" "It's up and down by the bonnie burn side, Amang the planting of Airly." They sought it up, they sought it down,25 They sought it late and early, And found it in the bonnie balm-tree, That shines on the bowling-green o' Airly. He has ta'en her by the left shoulder, And O but she grat sairly,30 And led her down to yon green bank, Till he plundered the bonnie house o' Airly. "O it's I hae seven braw sons," she says, "And the youngest ne'er saw his daddie, And altho' I had as mony mae,35 I wad gie them a' to Charlie. "But gin my good lord had been at hame, As this night he is wi' Charlie, There durst na a Campbell in a' the west Hae plundered the bonnie house o' Airly."40
THE BONNIE HOUSE OF AIRLY.
From Sharpe's Ballad Book, p. 59.
It fell on a day, and a bonny simmer day, When green grew aits and barley, That there fell out a greet dispute Between Argyll and Airlie. Argyll has raised an hunder men,5 An hunder harness'd rarely, And he's awa' by the back of Dunkell, To plunder the castle of Airlie. Lady Ogilvie looks o'er her bower window, And O but she looks weary!10 And there she spy'd the great Argyll, Come to plunder the bonny house of Airlie. "Come down, come down, my Lady Ogilvie, Come down, and kiss me fairly:" "O I winna kiss the fause Argyll,15 If he shouldna leave a standing stane in Airlie." He hath taken her by the left shoulder, Says, "Dame where lies thy dowry?" "O it's east and west yon water side, And it's down by the banks of the Airlie."20 They hae sought it up, they hae sought it down, They have sought it maist severely, Till they fand it in the fair plum-tree, That shines on the bowling-green of Airlie. He hath taken her by the middle sae small,25 And O but she grat sairly! And laid her down by the bonny burn-side, Till they plundered the castle of Airlie. "Gif my gude lord war here this night, As he is with King Charlie,30 Neither you, nor ony ither Scottish Lord, Durst awow to the plundering of Airlie. "Gif my gude Lord war now at hame, As he is with his king, Then durst nae a Campbell in a' Argyll35 Set fit on Airlie green. "Ten bonny sons I have born unto him, The eleventh ne'er saw his daddy; But though I had an hundred mair, I'd gie them a' to King Charlie.40
THE BARON OF BRACKLEY.
First published as follows in Jamieson's Popular Ballads, i. 102. The copy used was derived from Mrs. Brown, and collated with a fragment taken down by Scott from the recitation of two of the descendants of Inverey. Buchan has given a different version in his Gleanings, which is annexed to the present. "This ballad," says Chambers, "records an unfortunate rencontre, which took place on the 16th of September, 1666, between John Gordon of Brackley, commonly called the Baron of Brackley, (in Aberdeenshire,) and Farquharson of Inverey, a noted freebooter, who dwelt on Dee-side. The former gentleman, who is yet remembered by tradition as a person of the most amiable and respectable character, had contrived to offend Farquharson, by pounding some horses belonging to his (Farquharson's) followers, which had either strayed into the Brackley grounds, or become forfeited on account of some petty delinquencies committed by their proprietors. Farquharson was a man of violent habits and passions; he is yet remembered by the epithet Fuddie, descriptive of his hurried, impatient gait; and it is said that, having been in league with the powers of darkness, he was buried on the north side of a hill, where the sun never shone. On account of the miraculous expedition with which he could sweep the cattle away from a fertile district, Deil scoup wi' Fuddie! is still a popular proverb, implying that the devil could alone keep his own part with him. This singular marauder, it appears, from authentic information, wished at first to argue the point at issue with the Baron of Brackley; but in the course of the altercation some expression from one of the parties occasioned a mutual discharge of fire-arms, by which Brackley and three of his followers fell. An attempt was made by the baron's friends to bring Fuddie to justice; but the case seems to have been justly considered one of chance medley, and the accused party was soon restored to society."—The Scottish Ballads, p. 147.
Down Dee side came Inverey whistling and playing; He's lighted at Brackley yates at the day dawing. Says, "Baron o' Brackley, O are ye within? There's sharp swords at the yate will gar your blood spin." The lady raise up, to the window she went;5 She heard her kye lowing o'er hill and o'er bent. "O rise up, ye baron, and turn back your kye; For the lads o' Drumwharran are driving them bye." "How can I rise, lady, or turn them again! Whare'er I have ae man, I wat they hae ten."10 "Then rise up, my lasses, tak rocks in your hand, And turn back the kye;—I ha'e you at command. "Gin I had a husband, as I hae nane, He wadna lye in his bower, see his kye ta'en." Then up got the baron, and cried for his graith;15 Says, "Lady, I'll gang, tho' to leave you I'm laith. "Come, kiss me, then, Peggy, and gie me my speir; I ay was for peace, tho' I never fear'd weir. "Come, kiss me, then, Peggy, nor think I'm to blame; I weel may gae out, but I'll never win in!"20 When Brackley was busked, and rade o'er the closs, A gallanter baron ne'er lap to a horse. When Brackley was mounted, and rade o'er the green, He was as bald a baron as ever was seen. Tho' there cam' wi' Inverey thirty and three,25 There was nane wi' bonny Brackley but his brother and he. Twa gallanter Gordons did never sword draw; But against four and thirty, wae's me, what is twa? Wi' swords and wi' daggers they did him surround; And they've pierced bonny Brackley wi' many a wound.30 Frae the head o' the Dee to the banks o' the Spey, The Gordons may mourn him, and bann Inverey. "O came ye by Brackley yates, was ye in there? Or saw ye his Peggy dear riving her hair?" "O I came by Brackley yates, I was in there,35 And I saw his Peggy a-making good cheer." That lady she feasted them, carried them ben; She laugh'd wi' the men that her baron had slain. "O fye on you, lady! how could you do sae? You open'd your yates to the fause Inverey."40 She ate wi' him, drank wi' him, welcom'd him in; She welcom'd the villain that slew her baron! She kept him till morning, syne bade him be gane, And shaw'd him the road that he shou'dna be taen. "Thro' Birss and Aboyne," she says, "lyin in a tour,45 O'er the hills o' Glentanar you'll skip in an hour." —There's grief in the kitchen, and mirth in the ha'; But the Baron o' Brackley is dead and awa.
THE BARON OF BRAIKLEY.
Buchan's Gleanings, p. 68, taken from Scarce Ancient Ballads, p. 9.
Inverey came down Deeside whistlin an playin, He was at brave Braikley's yett ere it was dawin; He rappit fou loudly, an wi a great roar, Cried, "Cum down, cum down, Braikley, an open the door. "Are ye sleepin, Baronne, or are ye wakin?5 Ther's sharp swords at your yett will gar your bluid spin: Open the yett, Braikley, an lat us within, Till we on the green turf gar your bluid rin." Out spak the brave Baronne owre the castell wa, "Are ye come to spulzie an plunder my ha?10 But gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum in, Gin ye drink o' my wine ye'll nae gar my bluid spin. "Gin ye be hir'd widdifus, ye may gang by, Ye may gang to the lawlands and steal their fat ky; Ther spulzie like revers o' wyld kettrin clan,15 Wha plunder unsparing baith houses and lan'. "Gin ye be gentlemen, licht an cum in, Ther's meat an drink i' my ha' for every man: Gin ye be hir'd widdifus, ye may gang by, Gang down to the lawlans, an steal horse an ky."20 Up spak his ladie, at his bak where she laid, "Get up, get up, Braikley, an be not afraid; They're but hir'd widdifus wi belted plaids. * * * * * "Cum kis me, my Peggy, I'le nae langer stay, For I will go out an meet Inverey;25 But haud your tongue, Peggy, and mak nae sic din, For yon same hir'd widdifus will prove to be men." She called on her maries, they came to her han; Cries, "Bring your rocks, lassies, we will them coman; Get up, get up, Braikley, and turn bak your ky,30 For me an my women will them defy. "Come forth than, my maidens, an show them some play; We'll ficht them, an shortly the cowards will fly. Gin I had a husband, wheras I hae nane, He wadna ly in his bed and see his ky taen.35 "Ther's four-an-twenty milk whit calves, twal o' them ky, In the woods o' Glentanner it's ther they a' ly; Ther are goats in the Etnach, an sheep o' the brae, An a' will be plunderd by young Inverey." "Now haud your tongue, Peggy, an gie me a gun,40 Ye'll see me gae furth, but Ile never return. Call my bruther William, my unkl also; My cusin James Gordon, we'll mount an' we'll go." Whan Braikley was ready an stood i the closs, He was the bravest baronne that e'er munted horse;45 Whan a' war assembld on the castell green, Nae man like brave Braikley was ther to be seen. "Turn back, bruther William, ye are a bridegroom, * * * * * We bonnie Jean Gordon, the maid o the mill, O sichin and sobbin she'll seen get her fill."50 "I'me nae coward, brither, it's kent I'me a man; Ile ficht i' your quarral as lang's I can stan. Ile ficht, my dear brither, wi heart an guid will, An so will yung Harry that lives at the mill. "But turn, my dear brither, and nae langer stay.55 What'll cum o' your ladie, gin Braikley they slay? What'll cum o' your ladie an' bonny yung son, O what'll cum o' them when Braikley is gone?" "I never will turn: do ye think I will fly? No, here I will ficht, and here I will die."60 "Strik dogs," cries Inverey, "an ficht till ye're slayn, For we are four hunder, ye are but four men: Strik, strik, ye proud boaster, your honor is gone, Your lans we will plunder, your castell we'll burn." At the head o' the Etnach the battel began,65 At little Auchoilzie they killd the first man: First they killd ane, an syne they killd twa, They killd gallant Braikley, the flowr o' them a'. They killd William Gordon and James o' the Knox, An brave Alexander, the flowr o' Glenmuick:70 What sichin an moaning war heard i the glen, For the Baronne o' Braikley, wha basely was slayn! "Came ye by the castell, an was ye in there? Saw ye pretty Peggy tearing her hair?" "Yes, I cam by Braikley, an I gaed in ther,75 An ther saw his ladie braiding her hair. "She was rantin, an' dancin, an' singin for joy, An vowin that nicht she woud feest Inverey: She eat wi him, drank wi him, welcomd him in, Was kind to the man that had slayn her baronne."80 Up spak the son on the nourices knee, "Gin I live to be a man revenged Ile be." Ther's dool i the kitchin, an mirth i the ha, The Baronne o Braikley is dead an awa.
81. See Johnie Armstrang, p. 45.
GILDEROY.
Gilderoy (properly Gilleroy) signifies in Gaelic "the red-haired lad." The person thus denoted was, according to tradition, one Patrick of the proscribed clan Gregor. The following account of him is taken from the Scot's Musical Museum, p. 71, vol. iv. ed. of 1853.
"Gilderoy was a notorious freebooter in the highlands of Perthshire, who, with his gang, for a considerable time infested the country, committing the most barbarous outrages on the inhabitants. Some of these ruffians, however, were at length apprehended through the vigilance and activity of the Stewarts of Athol, and conducted to Edinburgh, where they were tried, condemned, and executed, in February, 1638. Gilderoy, seeing his accomplices taken and hanged, went up, and in revenge burned several houses belonging to the Stewarts in Athol. This new act of atrocity was the prelude to his ruin. A proclamation was issued offering £1,000 for his apprehension. The inhabitants rose en masse, and pursued him from place to place, till at length he, with five more of his associates, was overtaken and secured. They were next carried to Edinburgh, where after trial and conviction, they expiated their offences on the gallows, in the month of July, 1638."
In the vulgar story-books, Gilderoy, besides committing various monstrous and unnatural crimes, enjoys the credit of having picked Cardinal Richelieu's pocket in the King's presence, robbed Oliver Cromwell, and hanged a judge.
The ballad is said to have been composed not long after the death of Gilderoy, "by a young woman of no mean talent, who unfortunately became attached to this daring robber, and had cohabited with him for some time before his being apprehended." A blackletter copy printed in England as early as 1650 has been preserved. Another, with "some slight variations," is contained "in Playford's Wit and Mirth, first edition of vol. iii., printed in 1703." The piece is next found in Pills to purge Melancholy, v. 39, and, with one different stanza, in Old Ballads, i. 271. In the second volume (p. 106) of Thomson's Orpheus Caledonius (1733), it appears with considerable alterations. Lady Elizabeth Wardlaw (née Halket) undertook a revision of the ballad, and by expunging two worthless stanzas and adding three (those enclosed in brackets), produced the version here given, which is taken from Ritson's Scotish Songs, ii. 24. Percy's copy (Reliques, i. 335) is the same, with the omission of the ninth stanza, and Herd and Pinkerton have followed Percy.
Gilderoy was a bonny boy, Had roses tull his shoone; His stockings were of silken soy, Wi' garters hanging doune. It was, I weene, a comelie sight,5 To see sae trim a boy; He was my jo and hearts delight, My handsome Gilderoy. O sik twa charming een he had, A breath as sweet as rose;10 He never ware a Highland plaid, But costly silken clothes. He gain'd the luve of ladies gay, Nane eir tul him was coy: Ah, wae is me! I mourn the day,15 For my dear Gilderoy. My Gilderoy and I were born Baith in one toun together; We scant were seven years, beforn We gan to luve each other;20 Our dadies and our mammies, thay Were fill'd wi' mickle joy, To think upon the bridal day 'Twixt me and Gilderoy. For Gilderoy, that luve of mine,25 Gude faith, I freely bought A wedding sark of holland fine, Wi' silken flowers wrought; And he gied me a wedding ring, Which I receiv'd wi' joy;30 Nae lad nor lassie eir could sing, Like me and Gilderoy. Wi' mickle joy we spent our prime, Till we were baith sixteen, And aft we passed the langsome time,35 Amang the leaves sae green; Aft on the banks we'd sit us thair, And sweetly kiss and toy; Wi' garlands gay wad deck my hair My handsome Gilderoy.40 [O that he still had been content Wi' me to lead his life; But ah, his manfu' heart was bent To stir in feates of strife: And he in many a venturous deed45 His courage bauld wad try, And now this gars mine heart to bleed For my dear Gilderoy. And whan of me his leave he tuik, The tears they wat mine ee;50 I gave tull him a parting luik, "My benison gang wi' thee! God speid thee weil, mine ain dear heart, For gane is all my joy; My heart is rent sith we maun part,55 My handsome Gilderoy."] My Gilderoy, baith far and near, Was fear'd in every toun, And bauldly bare away the gear Of many a lawland loun.60 Nane eir durst meet him man to man, He was sae brave a boy; At length wi' numbers he was tane, My winsome Gilderoy. [The Queen of Scots possessed nought65 That my love let me want, For cow and ew he 'to me brought,' And een whan they were skant. All these did honestly possess He never did annoy,70 Who never fail'd to pay their cess To my love Gilderoy.] Wae worth the loun that made the laws, To hang a man for gear; To reave of live for ox or ass,75 For sheep, or horse, or mare! Had not their laws been made sae strick, I neir had lost my joy, Wi' sorrow neir had wat my cheek For my dear Gilderoy.80 Giff Gilderoy had done amisse, He mought hae banisht been; Ah! what sair cruelty is this, To hang sike handsome men! To hang the flower o' Scottish land,85 Sae sweet and fair a boy! Nae lady had sae white a hand As thee, my Gilderoy. Of Gilderoy sae fraid they were, They bound him mickle strong;90 Tull Edenburrow they led him thair, And on a gallows hung: They hung him high aboon the rest, He was sae trim a boy; Thair dyed the youth whom I lued best,95 My handsome Gilderoy. Thus having yielded up his breath, I bare his corpse away; Wi' tears that trickled for his death I washt his comelye clay;100 And siker in a grave sae deep, I laid the dear-loed boy, And now for evir maun I weep My winsome Gilderoy.
ROB ROY.
The subject of this piece is the abduction of a young Scottish lady by a son of the celebrated Rob Roy Macgregor. Sentence of outlawry had been pronounced against this person for not appearing to stand his trial for murder. While under this sentence, he conceived the desperate project of carrying off Jane Kay, heiress of Edinbelly, in Sterlingshire, and obtaining possession of her estate by a forced marriage. Engaging a party of the proscribed Macgregors to assist him in this enterprise, Rob Roy entered the young woman's house with his brother James, tied her, hand and foot, with ropes, and carried her thus on horseback to the abode of one of his clan in Argyleshire, where, after some mock ceremony, she was compelled to submit to his embraces. The place in which the unfortunate woman was detained, was discovered, and she was rescued by her family. Rob Roy and James Macgregor were tried for their lives. The latter escaped from prison, but the principal in this outrage suffered condign punishment in February, 1753.
Fragments of the story were printed in Select Scotish Songs, by Robert Burns, edited by R. H. Cromek, ii. 199, and in Maidment's North Countrie Garland, p. 44; a complete copy in the Thistle of Scotland, p. 93. Chambers has combined the fragments of Burns and Maidment with a third version furnished by Mr. Kinloch, and has produced a ballad which is on the whole the most eligible for this place. (Scottish Ballads, p. 175.) In the Appendix may be seen the editions above referred to, and also Eppie Morrie, a ballad founded on a similar incident.
This sort of kidnapping seems to have been the commonest occurrence in the world in Scotland. Sharpe has collected not a few cases in his Ballad Book, p. 99, and he gives us two stanzas of another ballad.
The Highlandmen hae a' cum down, They've a' come down almost, They've stowen away the bonny lass, The Lady of Arngosk. Behind her back they've tied her hands, An' then they set her on; "I winna gang wi' you," she said, "Nor ony Highland loon."
Rob Roy frae the Hielands cam Unto the Lawland Border, To steal awa a gay ladye, To haud his house in order. He cam ower the loch o' Lynn,5 Twenty men his arms did carry; Himsell gaed in and fand her out, Protesting he would marry. When he cam he surrounded the house, No tidings there cam before him,10 Or else the lady would have gone, For still she did abhor him. "O will ye gae wi' me?" he says, "O will ye be my honey? O will ye be my wedded wife?15 For I loe ye best of ony." "I winna gae wi' you," she says, "I winna be your honey; I winna be your wedded wife, Ye loe me for my money."20 * * * * * Wi' mournful cries and watery eyes, Fast hauding by her mother, Wi' mournful cries and watery eyes, They were parted frae each other. He gied her nae time to be dress'd,25 As ladies do when they're brides, But he hastened and hurried her awa, And rowed her in his plaids. He mounted her upon a horse, Himsell lap on behind her,30 And they're awa to the Hieland hills, Where her friends may never find her. As they gaed ower the Hieland hills, The lady aften fainted, Saying, "Wae be to my cursed gowd,35 This road to me invented!" They rade till they came to Ballyshine, At Ballyshine they tarried; He brought to her a cotton gown, Yet ne'er wad she be married.40 Two held her up before the priest, Four carried her to bed O; Maist mournfully she wept and cried, When she by him was laid O! [The tune changes.] "O be content, O be content,45 O be content to stay, lady, For now ye are my wedded wife Until my dying day, lady. "Rob Roy was my father call'd, Macgregor was his name, lady;50 He led a band o' heroes bauld, And I am here the same, lady. "He was a hedge unto his friends, A heckle to his foes, lady, And every one that did him wrang,55 He took him by the nose, lady. "I am as bold, I am as bold As my father was afore, lady; He that daurs dispute my word Shall feel my gude claymore, lady.60 "My father left me cows and yowes, And sheep, and goats, and a', lady, And you and twenty thousand merks Will mak me a man fu' braw, lady."