Volume 5 / Part 3 — ADDITIONS AND CORRECTIONS (continued 3)

1 ‘O are ye sleepin, baul B[r]achlie, or are ye at hame? For the caterans are at ye, an a’ your kye ’s taen.’ 2 . . . . . . . . ‘Ye’ll fling your rocks, lasses, we’ll fecht them our lane. 3 ‘We’ll fecht them an fleg them, an gar them rin hame, We’ll stand them in battle, as gin we were men. 4 ‘There’s four-an-twenty milk-white kine in Glentanner free, In the parks o Glentanner sae fain’s I wad be!’ 5 He’s called on his lady to give him his gun: ‘I’m gaun oot, Katie, but I’ll never come home.’ 6 She’s a’ her gates wide open flung, an she’s welcomed them in, An she sleeps wi the villain that slew her baron.

1 ‘Barron of Breachell, are ye withen? The sharp sourd is att yer gate, Breachell, will gar yer blod spine.’ 2 ‘The’r at yer gate, Brichell, the’r nether men nor lads, Bat silly heard widifaus, we belted plaids. 3 ‘O if I had a man,’ she says, ‘as it louks I haa nean, He widne sit in the house an see my kay tean. 4 ‘Bat, lasses, tak doun yer rokes, an we will defend,’ . . . . . . . . . . 5 ‘O kiss me, d[ea]r Peggey, an gee me doun my gun, I may well gaa out, bat I ill never come in.’ 6 Out spak his brother, says, Gee me your hand, I [ill] fight in your caus as lang as I may stan. 7 Fan the Barron of Brechell came to the closs, A braver barron never read upon horse. 8 . . . . . . . . . . ‘I think the silly heard widdefus are groun fighten men.’ 9 First they killed an, and sayn they killed tua, An the Barron of Brichell is dead an awa. 10 They killed Sandy Gordon, Sandy Gordon of the Knok, The miller an his three sons, that lived att Glenmuke. 11 First they killed ane, an sayn they killed tua, An the Barron of Brichell is dead an awaa. 12 Up came Crigevar an a’ his fighten men: ‘Had I come an houre sinner, he sudna ben slain.’ 13 For first they killed an, an sayn they killed tua, An the Barron of Breachell is dead an awa. 14 ‘O came ye by Brechell, lads? was ye in ther? Saw ye Peggie Doun, raving her hear?’ 15 ‘We came by Breache[l], lads, we was in ther; We saa Peggie Doun, curling her hear. 16 ‘She ate we them, drank we them, bad them come in To her haas an her bours that had slain her barron.’ 17 ‘Come in, gentelmen, ate an drink we me; Tho ye have slain my barron, I ha na ill well att thee.’ 18 ‘O was ye att Glenmuck, lads? was ye in ther? Saa ye Catren Gordon, raving her hear?’ 19 ‘We was att Gleanmuck, lads, we was in ther, We saa Catren Gordon, ravi[n]g her hear. 20 ‘We the tear in her eay,. . . . . . Seven bearns att her foot, the eaght on her knee. 21 They killed Peater Gordon, Peater Gordon of the Knok. The miller an his three sons, that lives att Glenmuck. 22 First they killed an, an sayn they killed twa, An the Barron of Breachell is dead an awaa.

1 The king has written a brod letter, An sealled it our with gould, An sent it to Lord Darnwater, To read it if he could. 2 Whan Lord Darnwater saa the letter, A light laughter lough he; Bat or he read it to an end The tear blinded his eye, An sighan said him good Lord Darnwater, I am near the day to dei. 3 Out spak his lady, In child-bed wher she lay; ‘My d[ea]r Lord Darnweter, what is to becom of me, An my young famely?’ 4 ‘I will leave my young famely As well as I cane; For I will leave to my lady The third part of my land, An I will live to my e[l]dest son, The tua part of my land. 5 ‘An I will live to my eldest daught[er] Five thousand pound of gold, An I will live to my second daughter Three thousand pound of gold. 6 ‘Ye saddel to me my littel gray horse, That I had wont to ried; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 The first stape Lord Darnwater staped, He stumbled on a ston; Said Lord Darnwater, I feer I ill never come home. 8 When he came to fair London city, An near unt[o] the toun, ‘A trater! a trater!’ said they, ‘A trator we see!’ 9 ‘A trater?’ said good Lord Darnwater, ‘A trator I nier could be, Unless it was bringen three hundred men To fight for young Jamie.’ 10 But when he came to Tour Hill Befor him came a bold man, . . . . . . . . With a broad aix in his hand. 11 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Hear is five ginies of gold an my green velvet coat, For to be your fee.’ 12 ‘Ye nobels all, Come hear to see me die, An ye peopell of fair Sco[t]land, Be kind to my family.’ 13 Lord Darnuater was dumed to die, to die, Good Lord Darnwater was dumed to die.

1 There lived a lady in the South, Ye would scarcely find her marrow; She was courted by nine gentlemen An a ploughman-lad frae Yarrow. 2 Ae nicht the nine sat drinkin wine To the lass wha had nae marrow, When the ploughman swore, tho they were a score He wad fecht them a’ in Yarrow. 3 It’s he’s gane ower yon high, high hill, And doon yon glen sae narrow, An there he saw nine armëd men, To fecht wi him in Yarrow. 4 ‘There’s nine o you an I’m but ane, An that’s an unequal marrow, But wi this gude blade and powerfu arm I’ll lay you low on Yarrow.’ 5 It’s three he slew, and three withdrew, And three lay dead on Yarrow, But in behind cam her brother John, An pierced his body thorough. 6 ‘Gae hame, gae hame, you fause young man, An tell your sister sorrow, That her true-love John lies dead and gone In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’ 7 ‘O father dear, I’ve dreamed a dream, I’m feared it will prove sorrow; I dreamed I was puin the heather-bells sweet On the bonny braes o Yarrow.’ 8 ‘O daughter dear, your dream is read, I’m feared it will prove sorrow; Your true-love John lies dead and gone In the dowie dens o Yarrow.’ 9 It’s she’s gane ower yon high, high hill, An doon yon glen sae narrow, An there she saw her true-love John Lyin cauld an dead on Yarrow. 10 She washed his face an combed his hair, Wi muckle grief an sorrow, She rowed him i the plaid she wore, In the dowie dens o Yarrow. 11 Her hair it was three quarters lang, The colour being yellow; She tied it round his middle sma, An carried him hame frae Yarrow. 12 ‘O daughter dear, I pray forbear, I’ll wed you to another marrow; I’ll wed you to some fitter match Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’ 13 ‘O father dear, you hae seven sons, Should you wed them a’ to-morrow, A fairer flower never grew in June Than the lad that died on Yarrow.’ 14 This lady, being six months with child To the ploughman lad of Yarrow, She fell into her father’s arms An died wi grief on Yarrow.

1 ‘Willie is fair, an Willë’s rair, An Willë’s wondres bonny, An Willë has promised to marey me, Gin ever he marred ony.’ 2 ‘Ye’s gett Jeamie, or ye’s gett Jonny, Or ye’s gett bonny Piter; Ye’s gett the walle of a’ my sins, Bat live to me Willë the writter.’ 3 ‘I winnë ha Jamie, I winnë ha Jonny, Nor will I ha bonny Peter; I winnë ha ony of yer sins, In I gett na Willie the writter.’ 4 Ther was three score an ten brisk young men Was boun to brid-stell we him. 5 ‘Ride on, ride on, my merry men a’, I forget some thing behine me; I [ha] forgetten my mider’s blissing, To boun to bridstell we me.’ 6 ‘God’s blissing an mine gae we ye, my son Willie, A’ the blissings of God ga we ye; For y’er na an hour but bare ninten, Fan y’er gain to meet yer Meggey.’ 7 They road on, an ferder on, Till they came to the water of Gamry; An they all wen safe throu, Unless it was Suet Willie. 8 For the first an step att Willie’s hors steped, He steped to the bridel; The nixt an step att Wellie’s hors steped, Toom grue Willë’s sadle. 9 They rod on, an forder on, Till they came to the kirk of Gamry, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘A rounin, a rouning,’ she says, ‘An fat means a’ this rouning?’ 11 Out spak the bonny bried, Just att the kirk of Gamrie; ‘Far is the man that was to gee me his han This day att the kirk of Gamry?’ 12 Out spak his breder John, An O bat he was sorry! ‘It fears me sair, my bonny brid, He slipes our sune in Gamry.’ 13 The ribbons they wer on her hare, They wer thik an mony; She rive them a’, late them doun faa, An she is on to the water of Gamry. 14 She sought it up, she sought it doun, She sought it braid an narrow, An the depest pot in a’ Gamry, Ther she got Suit Willie. 15 She has kissed his comly mouth, As she had don befor, O: ‘Baith our miders sall be alike sory, For we’s baith slep soun in Gamry.’

1 ‘Ye gie corn to my hors, An meatt to my man, For I will gai to my true-love’s gates This night, gin I can wine.’ 2 ‘O stay att home, my son Willie, This a bare night we me; The best bed in a’ my house Sall be well made to the.’ 3 ‘I care na for your beds, mider, I care na a pin; For I ill gae to my love’s gates This night, gin I can wine.’ 4 ‘O stay, my son Willie, This night we me; The best hen in a’ mey reast Sall be well made ready for the.’ 5 ‘I care na for your heans, midder, I care na a pin; For I ull gae to my love’s gates This night, gin I can wine.’ 6 ‘Gin ye winnë stay, my son Willie, This a bare night we me, Gin Claid’s water be dip an fue of flud, My malicen droun ye in.’ 7 He road up yon high hill, An doun yon douë den; The roring of Clid’s water Wod ha flied ten thousand men. 8 ‘O spair me, Claid’s water, Spare me as I gaa! Make me yer wrak as I come back, Bat spare me as I gaa!’ 9 He raid in, an forder in, Till he came to the chin; An he raid in, an forder in, Till he came to dray lan. 10 An fan he came to his love’s gates He tirled att the pin: ‘Open yer gates, May Meggie, Open yer gates to me, For my bets is fue of Claid’s water, An the rain rins on a’ my chine.’ 11 ‘I ha ne loves therout,’ she says, ‘I haa ne love theren; My true-love is in my arms tua, An nean will I latt in.’ 12 ‘Open yer gates, Meggie, This night to me, For Clide’s water is full of flood, An my mider’s mallison will droun me in.’ 13 ‘An of my chambers is full of corn,’ she says, ‘Anether is full of hay, The other is full of gentelmen, An they winnë remove till day.’ 14 Out waked her May Meggie, Out of her drussie dream: ‘I dreamed a dream nou san the streen, God read a’ dreams to gued! That my true-love Willie Was staning att my bed-feet.’ 15 ‘Nou lay still, my a dather, An keep my back fraa the call; It’s na the space of haf an hour Sayn he gade fra your hall.’ 16 ‘Hey, Willie! an hou, Willie! An Willie, winnë ye turn agen?’ But ay the louder that she crayed He read agenst the wind. 17 He raid up yon high hill, An doun yon douë den, An the roring that was in Clid’s water Wad ha fleed ten thousand men. 18 He raid in Tell he came to the chine, An he raid forder in, Bat never mare came out agen. 19 She sought him up, she sought him doun, She sought him braid an narrou; In the depest pot in a’ Claid’s water, Ther she gat Suit Willie. 20 She has kissed his comly mouth, As she had den afore: ‘Baith our midders sall be alike sorry, For we’s bath slipe soun in Clide’s water.’ 21 Ther was na mare seen of that gued lord Bat his hat frae his head; There was na mare seen of that gued lady Bat her keem an her sneed. 22 Ther mideers went up an doun the water, Saying, Clayd’s water din us wrong!

1 Bonny May to the ewe-buchts is gane, To milk her daddie’s yowes, And aye as she sang, her bonny voice it rang Outoer the taps o the knowes, knowes, Outoer the taps o the knowes. 2 . . . . . . . . . . . . A troop o noble gentlemen Came riding merrily by. 5 He took her by the middle sae sma, And by the green gown sleeve, And he’s laid her down on the dewy, dewy ground, And he’s askëd no man’s leave. 9 He’s mounted on his milk-white steed, And he’s rode after his men, And all that his merry men said to him Was, Dear master ye’ve tarried long. 10 ‘I have ridden east and I have ridden west, And I’ve ridden among the knowes, But the bonniest lass that eer I saw Was milking her daddie’s yowes.’ 11 She’s taen the milk-pail on her head, And she’s gane singing hame, And all that her father said to her Was, Dear daughter, ye’ve tarried long. 13 ‘O there cam a tod amang my yowes, An a waefu tod was he; Afore he had taen my wee yowe-lamb, I wad rather he had taen ither three.’ 15 It happened on a day, and a bonny summer day, As she was ca’in in her father’s kye, The same troop o noble gentlemen Came riding merrily by. 16 One of them calls out Lassie, have ye got a man? She turned her head right saucy about, Saying, I’ve got ane at hame. 17 ‘Hold your tongue, my bonny lass, How loud I hear ye lee! Do you no remember the caul mirky nicht When ye were in the yowe-buchts wi me?’ 18 He’s ordered one of his merry men To licht and set her on behind him, Saying, Your father may ca in his kye when he likes, For they’ll neer be ca’ed in by thee. 19 ‘For I am the laird o the Ochiltree walls, I have fifty ploughs and three, And I have got the bonniest lass In a’ the North Countrie.’

1 The wakeing all the winter night, And the tippling at the wine, And the courting of a bonny lass, Will break this heart of mine. Brave sailing here, my dear, And better sailing there, Brave sailing in my love’s arms, O give I were there! 2 I had a bed of thyme, And it flourishd night and day, There came by a squire’s son That stole my heart away. Brave sailing, etc. 3 Then up comes the gardener-lad, And he gave me profers free, He gave to me the jully-flowers, To clothe my gay bodie. 4 The gardener stood in his garden, And the prim-rose in his hand, And there he spi’d his own true love, As tight’s a willy wand. 5 ‘If he’ll be a lover true,’ she said, ‘A lover true indeed, And buy all the flowers of my garden, I’ll shape to thee a weed.’ Brave sailing, etc. 6 ‘The prim-rose shall be on thy head, And the red rose on thy breast, And the white-rose shall be for a smock, To cover thy body next. Brave sailing, etc. 7 ‘Thy glove shall be the jully-flower, Comes lockren to thy hand, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8 ‘Thy stockings shall be of the thyme, Fair maid, it is a pleasant view; Put on, fair maid, whenever you please, And your shoes shall be of the rue.’ Brave sailing here, my dear, And better sailing there, And brave sailing in my love’s arms, O if I were there! 9 ‘You shape to me, young man,’ she says, ‘A weed amongst the flowers, But I will shape to you, young man, A weed amongst the flowers. 10 ‘The hail-stones shall be on thy head, And the snow upon thy breast, And the east-wind shall be for a shirt, To cover thy body next. 11 ‘Thy boots shall be of the tangle, That nothing can betide, Thy steed shall be of the wan water, Loup on, young man, and ride.’ Brave sailing there, my dear, And better sailing here, And ’t is brave sailing twixt my love’s arms, O if I were there!

1 A garden was planted around With flowers of every kind, I chose of the best to wear in my breast, The flowers best pleased my mind. 2 A gardener standing by I asked to choose for me; He chose me the lily, the violet, the pink, But I liked none of the three. 3 A violet I don’t like, A lily it fades so soon, But as for the pink I cared not a flink, I said I would stop till June. 4 ‘The lily it shall be thy smock, The jonquil shoe thy feet, Thy gown shall be of the ten-week stock, Thy gloves the violet sweet. 5 ‘The gilly shall deck thy head, Thy way with herbs I’ll strew, Thy stockings shall be the marigold, Thy gloves the violet blue.’ 6 ‘I like not the gilly-flower, Nor herbs my way to strew, Nor stockings of the marigold, Nor gloves of violet blue. 7 ‘I will not have the ten-week stock, Nor jonquils to my shoon, But I will have the red, red rose That flowereth in June.’ 8 ‘The rose it doth bear a thorn That pricketh to the bone;’ ‘I little heed what thou dost say, I will have that or none.’ 9 ‘The rose it doth bear a thorn That pricketh to the heart;’ ‘O but I will have the red, red rose, For I little heed its smart.’ 10 She stoopëd to the ground To pluck the rose so red, The thorn it pierced her to the heart, And this fair maid was dead. 11 A gardener stood at the gate, With cypress in his hand, And he did say, Let no fair may Come into Dead Maid’s Land.

1 It’s braw sailing here, And it’s braw sailing there, And it’s braw sailing on the seas When wind and tide are fair. 2 It’s braw drinking beer, And it’s braw drinking wine, And it’s braw courting a bonnie lass When she is in her prime. 3 O the gardener sent me word, He that pued the rose for me, The willow, primrose, the red rose, But I denied all three. 4 The willow I’ll deny, The primrose it buds soon, But I’ll chuse for me the red rose, And I vow it’ll stand till June. 5 In June my red rose sprung, It was not a rose for me, So I’ll pull the top of my red rose, And I’ll plant the willow-tree. 6 For the willow I must wear, With sorrows mixed amang, And all the neighbours far and near Say I luved a false luve lang.

1 Bonny Catrain Jaffrie, That proper maid sae fare, She has loved yong Lochinwar, She made him no compare. 2 He courted her the live-lang winter night, Sa has he the simmer’s day; He has courted her sae lang Till he sta her heart away. 3 Bat the lusty lard of Lamerdall Came fra the South Countrey, An for to ga[i]n this lady’s love In intred he. 4 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . An he has gained her friends’ consent, An sett the weding-day. 5 The weding-day it being sett, An a’ man to it boun, She sent for her first fair love, Her wedding to come to. 6 His father an his mother came, . . . . . . . They came a’, but he came no, It was a foull play. 7 Lochenwar an his comrads Sat drinken att the wine; ‘Faue on you!’ sad his comrads, ‘Tak yer bride for shame. 8 ‘Had she ben mine, as she was yours, An den as she has don to you, I wad tak her on her bridell-day Fra a’ her compinay. 9 ‘Fra a’ her compinay, Without any other stay; I wad gee them frogs insted of fish, An take ther bride away.’ 10 He got fifty young men, They were gallant an gay, An fifty madens, An left them on a lay. 11 Fan he came in by Callien bank, An in by Calline bray, He left his company Dancing on a lay. 12 He came to the bridel-house, An in entred he; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13 ‘Ther was a young man in this place Loyed well a comly may, Bat the day she gaes anether man’s bride, An has plaed him foull play. 14 ‘Had it ben me, as it was him, An don as she has dien him tee, I wad ha geen them froges insteed of fish, An tane ther bride away.’ 15 The Englesh speared gin he wad fight, It spak well in his mind; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 16 ‘It was na for fighten I cam hear, But to bear gud fileshap gay; Wan glass we yer bridgrom, An so I goe my way.’ 17 The glass was filled of gued read wine Betuen them tua: ‘Wan word we yer brid, An so I goo my waa.’ 18 He was on gued horse back, An whipt the bride him we; She grat an wrang her hands, An said, It’s foull play! 19 . . . . . . . . ‘An this I dar well say, For this day I gade anether man’s bride, An it’s ben foull play.’ 20 Bat nou she is Lochenw[ar]’s wife, . . . . . . . . An he gaed them froges insted of fish, An tain ther bried away.

1 Bonny Anny Livieston Went out to see the play, By came the laird of Glenlion, And [he’s] taen hir quite away. 2 He set hir on a milk-white steed, Himself upon a gray, He’s teen hir oer the Highland hills, And taen hir quite away. 3 When they came to Glenlion’s gate, The lighted on the green; There was mony a bonny lad and lass To welcome the lady hame. 4 They led hir through high towers and bowers, And through the buling-green, And ay when they spake Erse to hir The tears blinded hir een. 5 Says, The Highlands is no for me, kind sir, The Highlands is no for me; If that ye would my favour win, Take me unto Dundee. 6 ‘Dundee!’ he says, ‘Dundee, lady! Dundee you shall never see; Upon the laird of Glenlion Soon wadded shall ye be.’ 7 When bells were rung, and mas was sung, And all were bound for bed, And bonny Annie Livieston By hir bridegroom was laid. 8 ‘It’s O gin it were day!’ she says, ‘It’s O gin it were day! O if that it were day,’ she says, ‘Nae langer wad I stay.’ 9 ‘Your horse stands in a good stable, Eating both corn and hay, And you are in Glenlion’s arms, Why should ye weary for day?’ 10 ‘Glenlion’s arms are good enough, But alais! the’r no for me; If that you would my fevour win, Taike me unto Dundee. 11 ‘Bat fetch me paper, pen and ink, And candle that I may see, And I’ll go write a long letter To Geordie in Dundee. 12 ‘Where will I get a bonny boy, That will win hose and shoon, That will gang to my ain true-luve, And tell him what is done?’ 13 Then up then spake a bonny boy, Near to Glenlion’s kin, Says, Many time I hae gane his erand, But the lady’s I will rin. 14 O when he came to broken brigs He bent his bow and swame, And when he came to grass growing Set down his feet and ran. 15 And when he came to Dundee gate Lap clean outoer the wa; Before the porter was thereat, The boy was in the haa. 16 ‘What news? what news, bonny boy? What news hes thou to me?’ ‘No news, no news,’ said bonny boy, ‘But a letter unto thee.’ 17 The first three lines he looked on, A loud laughter gied he, But or he wan to the hinder en The tears blinded his eie. 18 ‘Gae saddle to me the black,’ he says, ‘Gae saddle to me the broun, Gae saddle to me the swiftest steed That eer took man to towen.’ 19 He burst the black unto the slack, The browen unto the brae, But fair fa on the siller-gray That carried him ay away! 20 When he came to Glenlion’s yett, He tirled at the pin, But before that he wan up the stair The lady she was gone. 21 ‘O I can kiss thy cheeks, Annie, O I can kiss thy chin, O I can kiss thy clay-cold lips, Though there be no breath within. 22 ‘Deal large at my love’s buriell The short bread and the wine, And gin the morn at ten o clock Ye may deal as mukle at mine.’ 23 The taen was biried in Mary’s kirk, The tither in St Mary’s quire, And out of the taen there grew a birk, And the ither a bonny brier. 24 And ay they grew, and ay they threw, Till they did meet aboon, And a’ that ere the same did see Knew they had true lovers been.

1 Rob Roy’s from the Highlands come Down to the Lowland border, And there he’s stole a fair lady away, To keep his house in order. 2 As he came in by Blackhill gate, Twenty men his arms did carry, And he has stole a fair lady away, On purpose hir to marry. 3 No tidings came unto the house, Nor none went in before him, Or else she had been run away, For she did still abhor him. 4 But with his men he surunded the house, Himself went in unto hir, And when that he had found her out He profest how much he lovt hir. 5 ‘O wilt thou be my dear?’ he says, ‘O wilt thou be my hony? O wilt thou be my wedded wife? For I love you far better than ony.’ 6 ‘I will not be your dear,’ she says, ‘I will not be your honey, I will not be your wedded wife; You love me for my money.’ 7 But he hir drew amongst his crew, She holding by hir mother; With doleful cries and watry eyes The parted from each other. 8 He gave hir no time for to dress As brides do when the marry, But fast he hurried hir away, And rowd hir in his plaidy. 9 He set hir on a milk-white steed, Himself lept on behind hir, And he has carried hir away, Hir friends the could not find hir. 10 The lady’s cries were oftimes heard, But none durst venture to hir; She gaurded was on every side, Hir friends could not rescue hir. 11 As the went over hills and rocks, The lady oftimes fainted; Cries, Wo be to my curst mony, These roads to me invented. 12 As the came in by Drummond town And at Bachannan tarried, He bought to her a cloak and gown, Yet wad she not be married. 13 And when she came the priest before He askd if she would marry, But the parson’s zeal it was so hot For her will he did not tarry. 14 Four held hir up before the priest, Tow laid hir in hir bed, O, But still she cried, with watry eyes, When she was by him laid O. 15 ‘Now you’r to the Highlands come, Out of your native clime, lady, Never think of going back, But tak it for your hame, lady. 16 ‘Be content, be content, Be content to stay, lady, Now you are my wedded wife, Until your dying day, lady. 17 ‘Rob Roy was my father calld, McGregor was his name, lady, And all the country where he dwelt None could exceed his fame, lady. 18 ‘I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind to thee, lady, A’ thy kindred for thy sake Shall truly favoured be, lady. 19 ‘My father reignd as Highland king, And ruled at his will, lady, There was nether lord nor duke Durst do him ony ill, lady. 20 ‘Ay through time, ay through time, Ay through time was he, lady, Filled was w[ith] sweet revenge On a’ his enemys, lady. 21 ‘He was a hedge about his friends, A heckle till his foes, lady, And every ane that did him rang, He took them oer the nose, lady. 22 ‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold, [As bold] as forest boar, lady, Every ane that does thee rang Shall feell my stell claymore, lady. 23 ‘Neer a man from Highlands came That ever did him dare, lady, But if those persons did escape He sized upon there gear, lady. Ay through time, etc. 24 ‘My father dealt in horse and cows, But thou in goats and sheep, lady, Thre and twenty thousand merk Makes me a man complete, lady. Be content, etc. 25 ‘Of all the exploits my father did I do him now outshine, lady; He never took a prize in ’s life With sic a face as thine, lady.’

1 They hoised her up upon a mare; It was not for her gowd nor gear; ’T was for her beauty, keen and rare, That they stealt Ellen Symon. Se ho or so gur tallum tallum, Se ho or so gur e so hallum; Bheir mis ma chinteach ghuds gur tallum, Chaileig, Eilie Symon. 2 Her father made a bow o bere, Her uncle he gae twa pound mair, To hang the rogue he vowed and sware That stealt his Ellen Symon. 3 When they came on till Allanqooich, They drank the whisky oot o a quaich, And ilka are was blythe eneuch, But wae was Ellen Symon. 4 When they came to the brig o Don, Peter swore he would move on; Says Charlie, Lad, ye sanna win, For my brave Ellen Symon.

1 Ther lives a maid in Edinbrugh citty, Elisa Lindsy they call her by name; Monye an came to court her, But a’ ther suit was in vain. 2 Out spak the hear of Carnussë, An out spak he; ‘Fat wad ye think of me if I wad gae to Edinbrugh citty An bring this fair creatur we me?’ 3 ‘If ye gae to Edinbrugh city An bring this fair creatur we the, Bring her home we ne flatry, But by grait policy.’ 4 Fan he came to the Netherbou, Elisa Lindsy for to see, She drank we him a bottel of cherry, And bare him gued company. 5 ‘Will ye goo to the Hillands we me, Lisee? Will ye go to [the] Hillands we me? . . . . . . . . Ye’s gett cruds an grean why.’ 6 Out spak Lissy’s mother, An out spak she; ‘If ye say so to my daughter, [I] swaer I ell gar ye die.’ 7 ‘Keep well yer dother, old lady, Keep well yer dother fra me, For I care as littel for yer dother As she dos for me.’ 8 Out spak Lissie Lindsy, We the tear in her eay; ‘I will gie ye ten gunies, If ye wad bat sitt in my roum bat a whill Till I dra you[r] picter, To mind me on your swit smill.’ 9 ‘I care as littel for your ten gunies As ye dou for mine, But if ye love my person, Goo we me if ye inclayn.’ 10 Fan they came to Carnusie, an even to the glen, Out came the old day: ‘Ye’r welcom home, Sir Donall, ye’r welcom home, An that fair creatur ye we.’ 11 ‘Caa na me mare Sir Donald, Bat caa me Donall, yer son, An I’ll caa ye my mother, An caa me Donall, yer son:’ The words wer spoken in Ears, Lissie she had nean. 12 ‘Gett us a supper of cruds, [A supper of cruds] an green whay, An a bed of the best of yeer rushes, Besids a covering of gray.’ 13 Lissy Lindsy bieng weary, She lay over long in they day: ‘Win up, Lissy Lindsy, Ye haa layen our lang in the day; Ye might haa ben out we my mider, Milken the eus an the kay.’ 14 Out spak Lissie Lindsy, The tear in her eay; ‘I wiss I wer in Edenbrugh citty, I cannë milk eus nor kay.’ 15 ‘Hold your toung, Lissie Lindsy, An dou not freat on me, For I will haa ye back to Edenbrugh citty, Nou we grait safity.’ 16 Out spak Lissie Lindsy, The tear in her eay; ‘If I wer in Edenbrugh citty, They woud think littel of me.’ 17 He touk her by the milk-white hand, Some other forest to vue; . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 18 Fan they came to Carnusy, out came Donal’s father, A gay old knight was he; Out cam Donald’s father, An four-an-tuenty him we. 19 ‘Ye’r welcom, Lissie Lends[y], Dear welcom to me; Ye’s be Lady Carnusie, An gett Donal, my son.’ 20 Out came Donald’s mother, An four-an-tuenty her we: ‘Ye’r welcom, my son, An that fair creatur ye we.’

3 As I came in by Carron sid, An in nou by Dumblain, Ther I mett we Dugall Grame: He said he wad see me hame. 4 ‘My bonny Lisey Ballie, I ill rou ye in my plady, An ye wad gaa along we me, I wad make ye a Heallend lady.’ 5 ‘If I wad gaa along we ye, They wad say I wer na wise; For I cane nether milk cou nor ewe, Nor can I speak Ears.’ 6 ‘My bonny Lisie Bailly, For that ye nead na fear; For onye that I cane dou, I ill learn to you, my dear.’ 19, 21 ‘Then I ill cast off my bra nou goun, Made of the silk an saten, An I ell pitt on the hame-made grays, To skip among the breachan.’ ‘My bonny Lisie Bailly, I ill rou ye in my plaidy, An ye will go along we me, I ill make ye a Healand lady.’ 20 ‘Then I ell cast aff my bra nou shous, Made of the Turky lader, An I ell pit on the hame-made broges, To skip among the header.’ ‘My bonny Lisie Bailly, I ell rou ye in my plady; Since ye’r to goo along we me, I ell make ye a Healend lady.’ 16 Foull faa the logarheaded Loland lads That lives near Castell Carey, Has latten the bonny lass away The Heallend lad to marry.

1 ‘As I cam in by boney Glassgow town, The Highland troops were a’ before me, And the bon[ey]est lass that ere I saw, She lives in Glassgow, tha ca her Peggy. 2 ‘I wad gie my boney black horse, So wad I my good gray nagie, If I were a hundred miles in the North, And nan wee me but my boney Peggy.’ 3 Up then spoke her father dear, Dear vow! but he was wondrous sorey; ‘Weel may yea steel a cow or a ewe, But ye darna steel my boney Peggy.’ 4 Up then spoke her mother dear, Dear vow! but she spoke wondrious sorey; ‘Now, since I’ve brought ye up this length, Wod ye gang awa wee a Highland fellow?’ 5 He set her on his boney black horse, He set himsel on his good gray nagy; They have riden over hill[s] and dales, Now he is awa wee his boney Peggy. 6 They are riden or hills and dales, They have riden or mountains maney, Untill that thay com to a low, low glen, And there he’s lain down wee his boney Peggy. 7 Up then spoke the Earll o Argyle, Dear vow! bet he spoke wondrous sorry; ‘The bonniest lass in a’ Scotland Is af an awa wi [a] Highland fellow!’ 8 There bed was of the boney green grass, There blankets was o the hay sa boney; He falded his philabeg below her head, Now he’s lawing down wee his boney Peggy. 9 Up then spoke the boney Lawland lass, And oh, but she spoke wondrous sorry; ‘A’s warruant my mother would hae a gae soir heart To see me lian here wi you, my Willie!’ 10 ‘In my father’s house there’s feather-beds, Feather-beds an blankets many; The’re a’ mine, an the’ll shoon be thine, An what needs your mother be sae sorry, Peggie? 11 ‘Dinna you see yon nine score o kye, Feding on yon hill sae boney? The’re a’ mine, an the’ll shoon be thine, An what needs your mother be sorry, Peggie? 12 ‘Dinna you see yon nine score o sheep, Feeding on yon brae sae bonny? The’re a’ mine, an the’ll shoon be thine, An what needs your mother be sorry for you? 13 ‘Dinna you see yon bonny white house, Shining on yon brae sae bonny? An I am the earl o the Isle o Sky, And surely my Peggie will be calle[d] a lady.’

1 It was on a day, and a fine summer’s day, When the Lowlands they were making ready, There I espied a weel-far’d lass, She was gaun to Glasgow, and they ca her Peggy. 2 It’s up then spak a silly auld man, And O but he spak wondrous poorly! Sayin, Ye may steal awa my cows and my ewes, But ye’ll never steal awa my bonny Peggy. 3 ‘O haud yer tongue, ye silly auld man, For ye hae said eneugh already, For I’ll never steal awa yer cows and yer ewes, But I’ll steal awa yer bonny Peggy.’ 4 So he mounted her on a milk-white steed, Himsel upon a wee grey naigie, And they hae ridden ower hill and dale, And over moors and mosses many. 5 They rade till they cam to the head o yon glen, It might hae frightened anybody; He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me, Or will ye return back again to your mammie? * * * * * * 6 Their bed was o the green, green grass, And their blankets o the bracken sae bonnie, And he’s laid his trews beneath their head, And Peggy’s lain doun wi her Heilan laddie. 7 They lay till it cam to the break o day, Then up they rose and made them ready; He said, Whether will ye go alongst with me, Or will ye return back again to your mammie? 8 ‘I’ll follow you through frost and snow, I’ll follow you through dangers many, And wherever ye go I will go alongst with you, For I’ll never return back again to my mammie.’ 9 ‘I hae four-and-twenty gude milk-kye, They’re a’ bun in yon byre sae bonny, And I am the earl o the Isle o Skye, And why should not Peggy be called a lady? 10 ‘I hae fifty acres o gude land, A’ ploughed ower and sawn sae bonny, And I am young Donald o the Isle o Skye, And wherever I’m laird I’ll make ye lady.’

1 Earell is a bonny place, Itt stands upon yon plain; The gratest faut about the toun, Earell’s na a man. For fat ye caa the danton o’tt, According as ye ken, For the pearting . . . ., Lady Earel lays her lean. 2 Eearel is a bonny place, It stans upon yon plain; The rosses they grou read an whit, An the apples they grou green. 3 ‘Fatt nead I my apron wash An hing upon yon pinn? For lang will I gaa out an in Or I hear my barn’s dinn. 4 ‘Fatt nead I my apron wash, Or hang upon yon dor? For side an wid is my petecot, An eaen doun afore. 5 ‘Bat I will laice my stays agean, My middel jump an smaa; I ull gaa a’ my days a meaden, Awaa, Earell, awaa!’ 6 It fell ance upon a day Lord Earell Went to hunt him lean, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7 He was na a mill fra the toun, Nor yett sae far awaa, Till his lady is on to Edinbrugh, To tray him att the laa. 8 Littel did Lord Earell think, Fan he satt doun to dine, That his lady was one to Edinbrugh, Nor fatt was in her mind. 9 Till his best servant came For to latt him kenn, . . . . . . . . . . . . 10 She was na in att the toun-end, Nor yett sa far awa, Till Earell he was att her back, His goudy lokes to sha. 11 She was na in att the toun-head, Nor just att the eand, Till Earell he was att her back, Her earent for to ken. 12 ‘As lang as they caa ye Kett Carnegë, An me Sir Gilbert Hay, I us gar yer father sell Kinnerd, Yer tougher for to pay.’ 13 ‘For to gar my father sell Kennerd, It wad be a sin, To gee’t to ony naughty knight That a toucher canna wine.’ 14 Out spak the first lord, The best among them a’; ‘I never seed a lady come to Edinbrugh We sick matters to the laue.’ 15 Out spak the nixt lord, The best of the toun; ‘Ye gett fiften weell-fared maids, An pitt them in a roun, An Earl in the midst of them, An latt him chouss out ane.’ 16 They ha gotten fiften well-fared maids, An pat them in a roun, An Earel in the mids of them, An bad him chuse out ane. 17 He voued them a’ intell a rau, Even up an doun, An he has chossen a well-fared may, An Meggie was her name. 18 He touk her by the hand, Afore the nobles a’, An tuenty times he kissed her moue, An lead her throu the haa. 19 ‘Louk up, Meggie, luke up, Meggie, An thinkne sham[e]; As lang as ye see my goudy loks, Lady Earel’s be yer name.’ 20 Thir was fifteen nobelmen, An as mony ladys gay, To see Earel proven a man . . . . . . 21 ‘Ye tak this well-fared may, An keep her three roun reaths of a year, An even att the three raiths’ end I ull draue near.’ 22 They ha tane that well-fared may, An kepeed her three roun reaths of a year, An even att the three raiths’ end Earel’s son she bare. 23 The gentelmen they ga a shout, The ladys gaa a caa, Fair mat faa him Errel, But vou to his lady! 24 He was na in at the toun-head, Nor just att the end, Till the letters they wer metting him That Errol had a son. 25 ‘Luke up, Megie, luk up, Meggie, An think na shame; As lang as ye see my bra blak hat, Lady Earrol’s be yer name. 26 ‘I will gie my Meggie a mill, Bat an a pice of land, . . . . . . To foster my young son. 27 ‘Fare is a’ my merry men a’, That I pay meat an gair, For to convë my Meggie hame, . . . . . ?’ 28 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . Even in Lord Earrel’s coach They conved the lassie hame. 29 ‘Tak hame yer dother, Lord Kennard, An take her to the glen, For Earell canno pleas her, Earell nor a’ his men.’ 30 ‘Had I ben lady of Earrol, Of sick a boony place, I wadne gain to Edinbrugh My husband to disgrace.’

1 Lord Airlie’s courted mony a lady, He’s courted mony a ane, O An he’s awa to bonny Kinnaird, Lady Katrine’s love to win. O 2 An when he cam to bonny Kinnaird, An on the bowlin-green, There he saw his ain Katrine, Was walking there alane. 3 ‘O will ye go to bonnie Airlie, Alang wi me to dine? Or will ye go to bonny Airlie, To be my lady fine?’ 4 ‘I winna go to bonny Airlie Alang wi you to dine, But I will go to bonny Airlie To be your lady fine.’ * * * * * * 5 He would not hae the lady gay, That rustled in her silk, But he would hae the country-girl, Goin to sell her milk. 6 He took his Peggie by the hand An led her through the ha, An twenty times he kissëd her, Before the nobles a’. 7 He took his Peggie by the hand An led her through the trance, An twenty times he kissëd her Before he bade her dance.

1 They hae made a marriage o’t, An they hae made it sune, O An they hae made a marrige o’t, It stood at Earlstoon. O 2 When een was come, an bells were rung, An a’ men boond for bed, The earl and his gay ladie In ae chamber were laid. 3 It’s up i the mornin the earl rose, Went to anither room; Up she rose an away she goes, An to Kinnaird she came. 4 They socht her up, they socht her doon, They socht her through a’ the toon, An she was seen walkin her lane, An her bed-goon it was on. 5 He wissd his horse had broken’s neck When first he to Kinnaird did come. 6 There was na ane bade him come in But John Lindsay him lane. 7 When he was at bonny Kinnaird, An on the bowlin-green, His hair was like the threeds o gold, An his eyes like diamonds sheen; He micht’ll ae served the best Carnegie, That ever bore the name. 8 He said, Tho ye be Kate Carnegie, I am Sir Gilbert Hay; I’ll gar your father sell Kinnaird, Your tocher-gude he maun pay. 9 ‘To gar my father sell his land I think it were a sin, For ony silly brat like you; Ye couldna tocher win. 10 ‘I may wash my apron An hing it on the tower, An I may kilt my petticoats, They’re even doon afore.’ 11 But the earl he’s awa to Edinbro, To prove himself a man; The lady she fast followd him, To swear that he was none. 12 An when they cam to Edinbro, And into the ha, There she saw her ain gude lord, Amang the nobles a’. 13 He took the tapster-lass An led her through the room, An twenty times he kissed her mou, Afore his lady’s een. 14 She took the cocks all frae her head An dashed them at the wa; ‘Awa! awa, Lord Earl!’ she says, ‘Awa, Lord Earl, awa!’ 15 But the earl he hae gotten leave To choise a maid unto himsel, An he hae choised a country-lass, Cam butter an eggs to sell. 16 He took the lassie by the hand An led her through the room: ‘I’d gie thee three times three hundred pound, If you’d bear to me a son.’ 17 ‘Haud aff your hands, Lord Earl,’ she said, ‘Haud aff your hands frae me; For I wad think it a great disgrate For a’ my kin an me.’ 18 But he has called for a private room, An there he laid her doun, An there he took his will o her, Upon a bed o down. 19 She was three quarters of a year Confined to a room, And bonny was the babe she bore, Sir John Hay was his name. 20 ‘Wae be to you, Peggie Stuart, That ae sister o mine! Ye’ve pairted me an my gude lord, We’ll never meet again.’ 21 Up spak her sister, Lady Jean, . . . . . . An I could gain sick an estate, I wad gien my husband up to disdain.

1 Comarnad it is a very bonny place, An ther is ladys three, madam, Bat the farest an rarest of them a’ Has marred Richerd Storry. 2 ‘O hear is a letter to ye, madam, Hear is a letter to ye, madam; The Earl of Hume, that galant knight, Is fain in love we you, madam. 3 ‘Ther is a letter to you, madam, [Ther is a letter to you, madam;] The Eearl of Hume, that galant knight, Disers to be yer servant trou, madam.’ 4 ‘I ill haa nan of his letters, Richerd, I ill hae nane of his letters, [Richerd,] I have voued, an I ill keep it trou, I ill marry nane bat ye, Richie.’ 5 ‘Say na saa to me, lady, Sai na saie to me, lady, For I ha nether lands nor rents For to manten ye on, lady.’ 6 ‘Hunten Tour an Tillebarn, The house of Athell is mine, Richë, An ye sall haa them a’, Fan ever ye inclen, Richë. 7 ‘For we will gaa to sea, Richë, I ill sitt on the deak, Richë, I ill be yer servant air an lait, Att any houre ye laek, [Richë.]’ 8 ‘O manie ye be sad, sister, An mennie ye be sorry, Nelly, To live the has of bony Comernid, An follou Richert Storry?’ 9 ‘O fatt neads I be sad, sister, Or fou cane I be sorry, Anna? A bony lad is my delit, An my lot has been laid afore me.’ 10 As she wen[t] up the Parliment Closs, We her lassed shene so fine, Monny an bad the lady good day, But fue thought she was Richert’s lady. 11 As she went up the Parliment Closs, We her laised shon so fine, Monny an halled that gay lady, But fue halled Richerd Storry.

‘Fair Rosewoodie is a’ my ain, My father left it to me so lately; Gin ye’ll consent to be my ain, I’ll gie ye’t a’, my Ritchie Storie.’

1 The Earl of Aboyn he’s carrlis an kind, An he is nou come frae Lonon; He sent his man him befor, To tell of his hame-coming. 2 First she called on her chambermad, Sayn on Jeanie, her gentelwoman: ‘Bring me a glass of the best claret wine, To drink my good lord’s well-hame-coming. 3 ‘My sarvants all, be ready att a call, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For the Lord of Aboy[n] is coming. 4 ‘My cooks all, be ready at a [c]all, . . . . . . . . We the very best of meatt, For the Lord of Aboyn is coming. 5 ‘My maids all, be ready at a call, . . . . . . . . The rooms we the best all to be drest, For the Lord of Aboyn is coming.’ 6 She did her to the closs to take him from his hors, An she welcomed him fra London: . . . . . . . . . ‘Yer welcome, my gued lord, fra London!’ 7 ‘An I be saie welcom,’ he says, ‘Ye’ll kiss me for my coming, For the morn sud ha ben my weding-day Gif I had stayed att London.’ 8 She turned her about we a disdanfull look, O dear, she was a pritty woman! ‘Gin the morn sud ha ben yer weding-day, Ye may kiss yer houers at London.’ 9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘So I shall, madam, an ye’s ha na mare to say, For I ill dine we the markes of Huntly.’ 10 She did her to his servant-man, I wat they caed him Peater Gordon: ‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will late me We him a singel mille to ride [to London].’ 11 ‘You ned not, madam,. . . . I haae asked him already; He will not lett you a singel mille ride, For he is to dine we the markes of Huntly.’ 12 She called on her chamber-maid, Sine on Jean, her gentelwoman: ‘Ye make my bed an tay up my head, Vou’s me for his hear coming!’ 13 She lived a year an day, we mucell grife an wae, The docters were we her dealing; Withen a crak, her heart it brack, An the letters they went to London. 14 He gae the table we his foot, An caped it we his knee, Gared silver cup an easer dish In flinders flie. 15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘I rader I had lost a’ the lans of Aboyne Or I had lost bonny Margrat Irven.’ 16 He called on his best servang-man, I wat they [caed] him Piter Gordon: ‘Ye gett our hosses sadled we speed, Vou’s me for our hear coming! 17 ‘. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For we’ll a’ be in black, fra the hose to the hat, Vou’s me for bonny Margrat Irvicen! 18 ‘We must to the North, to burry her corps, Aless for our hear coming! I rather I had lost a’ the lands of Aboyn Or I had lost bonny Marg[ra]t Irvien!’

10 She has called her servant-maid, And Jean, her gentlewoman: ‘Go make me a bed and lay me down, I’m as sick as any woman.’ 11 Word has to new London gane, To the tavern where he was dining; He gave such a rap on the table where he sat Made all the house to wonder. 12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘I would rather hae lost a’ the lands o Aboyne Or I’d lost my Peggy Irvine!’

1 The Yerle o Aboyne’s to London gane, He met in wi a temptin woman; For she sat an sang an birld at the wine, An she wadna lat him hame fae Lunon. * * * * * * 2 ‘My cook-maids a’, be well in ca, Had pots an pans a boilin, Wi the roast an the boil, To attend my guid lord’s comin.’ 3 She steppit sae neatly oot the way, She gaed, she went an met him: ‘Ye’re welcome home, my ain guid lord, You’r thrice weelcome fae Lunon.’ 4 ‘An I be welcome home,’ he says, ‘Ye’ll kiss me for my comin, For this very day I’d been wedded to a maid Gin I’d staid langer in Lunon.’ 5 She turnd her about wi a sorrowfu look, Such a sorry an angry woman! ‘An the letters be true I receivd last frae you, Gae kiss your whores in Lunon.’ 6 Haem she gaed frae . . . . . . . . . . . But wi a crack her heart did brak, . . . . . . . 7 Fifty letters seald wi black, An they are on to Lunon, An when he lookd the letters upon He says, O wae’s me for my pairtin! * * * * * * 8 When he cam to bonny Aboyne He thocht that she was sleepin, But when he drew the sma curtain by Then he fell oot a weepin. 9 ‘O dear! is she dead? and a wow! is she dead? Ah, woe’s me for our pairtin! I rather had lost a’ the lands o Aboyne Or I’d pairted wi Peggie Irvine. * * * * * * 10 ‘A’ my friends did me disdain For marryin the name o Irvine.’

The Earl of Aboyne he’s courtous an kin, He’s kin to every woman; He’s kind when he comes, an he’s kind when he gangs, But he never brings his lady to London.

1 The Earl o Aboyne’s to London gane, An taen Duke Huntly wi him, * * * * * * 2 She called on Jack, her gentleman, An Jean, her gentlewoman: ‘Gae dress my fair body in some finer dress, For the Earl o Aboyne is comin.’ * * * * * * 3 She’s gaen doun by yon burnside, An there she saw him comin: ‘Ye’re welcome, welcome, Earl o Aboyne, Ye’re welcome hame frae Lunon. * * * * * * 4 ‘Gae back, gae back then, Earl o Aboyne, Nae thanks to you for comin; Gin tomorrow wad hae been your fair weddin-day Gae kiss your dames in Lunon.’

1 Ther was a knigh[t], An a gillan knight was he, An he’s faein in love we his shiperd’s daughter, . . . . . . . 2 . . . . . . . He could nether gang nor ride; He fell so deap in her fancy Till his nose began to blead. 3 ‘Bonny may, an bra may, Canno ye on me rue? By a’ the meads I ever saa, Ther is nane I lou by you. 4 ‘Ye’r a shepherd’s ae dother, An I am a barron’s son, An gratt is the pleasur I wad haa To see you gaa out an in, may.’ 5 ‘I am a shiperd’s ae dother, An ye’r a barron’s son, An ther is ne pleasur I could ha To see you gae out nor in. 6 ‘. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For I widne gee the fancey of my bonny love For ne love nor favour of you, sir.’ 7 ‘Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a’ the maids I ever saa, Ther is nane I loie but you.’ 8 ‘Lay not your love on me,’ she says, ‘Lay not your love on me, For I am our lake to be yer bride, An you[r] quen I ell never be. 9 ‘For I will wear nane of your silks, Nor nean of yer scarlet clase; For the hue of the eue sall be my goun, An I will goo as I pleas.’ 10 ‘. . . . . . . . . . . . . . Ye’r na our lake to be my bride, An my quien ye’s never be. 11 ‘Bonney may, an bra may, Winnë ye on me rue? By a’ the may[s] I see, Ther is nane I loe but you, may.’ 12 ‘If ye ha faen sae deap in my fancy Ye cane nether gang nor rid, Ye take me to the middel of the ring, An bear me guid comp[a]ny.’ 13 He has tane her by the milk-whit hand An led her thro hase an bours: ‘Ye’r the jule of my heart, An a’ I have is yours.’ 14 He tuke her by the milk-whit hand An led her out an in: ‘Ye’r the jule of my heart, My d[ea]r, ye’r welcom in.’ 15 Out spak his brother John, ‘Brother, ye haa don grate wrong; Ye ha marred a wife this night Discredet to all yer kin.’ 16 ‘Hold yer toung, my brother John, For I hae don ne wrang, For I ha marred a wife to wine, An ye ha ane to spend.’

An a’body seemed to be content, And she was at his will.

She canna wash your china cups, Nor dress you a dish o tea, O But weel can she milk baith cow and ewe, Wi her cogie at her knee. O

Yer china cups I canna wash, Nor cook a cup o tea, O But weel can I milk the cowes and the ewes, Wi the cogie on my knee. O

1 Buchan is bonny an ther lays my love, My fancë is fixed on him, it winnë remove; [It winnë remove] for a’ I cane dee, Achanacë Gordon is my love an sall be. 2 Ben came her father, steps on the floor, Says, Jeanie, ye’r acting the part of a hour; Ye’r leaking ane that cares na for ye; Wed Salton, an latt Achenecy be. 3 ‘Achainace Gordon is a pritty man, Bat Acchanace Gordon has na free land; For his land is laying wast, an his castell faaen doun, So ye man take Salton, latt Achennecy be.’ 4 ‘My friends may case me we Salton to wed, Bat my friends sall na case me we him to bed; I ill never bear to him dother nor sin till the day I sall deei, For Achannace Gordon is my love an sall be.’ 5 Her friends they have cassed her we Salton to wed, Bat they never got her we him to bed; She never bare dother nor sin till the day that she dead deei, For Achainace Gordon was her love and sud be. 6 ‘Ye that are her madins, ye take aff her goun, An I will infeft her in five thousand pound; She sall werr silk till her heel and goud till her kneee, An she man forget him young Achanice.’ 7 ‘Ye that are my madins sanna take aff my goon, Nor will I be infefted in five thousand pound; I winnë wer goud on my head nor silk to my knee, Nor will I forsake young Achanice.’ 8 ‘Ye that are her madins bring her to my bed, The bed is made ready an the shits doun spread; She sall lay in her bed till tuall in the day, An sin forget him young Achanace.’ 9 ‘Ye that are my madins sanna ha me to his bed, Tho the bed be made ready an the shits doun spread; Nor will I lay in his bed till tuall of the day, Nor forsake him young Achanicy. 10 ‘For rather then have wedded Salton to wear goud to my knee, I rather wedded Achanicy tralled fait fish fraa the sea; Or I had weded Salton an wore robes of read, I rader wead Achanace, we him begg my b[r]ead.’ 11 Achanicy Gordon came fra the sea, We a gallant regment an brave companie; He sought out his Jeanie we doll an we care, An Achanice Gordon is leak to dispear. 12 Doun came her handmaid, wringen her hands: ‘Alass for your staying sa lang in strang lands! For Jeanie is marred, an nou she is dead. Alass for your staying sae lang on the flood!’ 13 . . . . . . . . . . ‘Take me to the room far my love lays in;’ He has kessed her comly lips, they wer paill an wan, An he dyed for his Jeanie that very same night.

1 ‘Aft have I played att the cards an the dice, They wer so very entisen, But this is a sad an a sorofull seat, To see my apron riseng. 2 ‘Aft ha I plad att the cards an the dice, For love of my laddy, Bat nou I man sitt in my father’s kittchë-nouk, An roke my baby. 3 ‘Bat gin I had an of my father’s servens, For he has so mony, That wad gaa to the woods of Glentaner We a letter to the ranten laddy!’ 4 ‘Hear am I, an of your father’s servants, For he has so many, That will gaa to the woods of Glentaner We a letter to the ranten laddy.’ 5 ‘Fan ye gee to Aboyn, To the woods of Glentaner sie bonny, We yer hat in yer hand, gee a bou to the grond, In the presenc[e] of the ranten laddy.’ 6 Fan he gad to Aboyn, To the woods of Glentaner saae bonny, We his hat in his han, he gied a bou to the grond, In the preasence of the ranten laddy. 7 Fan he looked the letter on, Saa loud as he was laughing; Bat or he read it to an end The tears they came doun raping. 8 ‘O faa is this, or faa is that, Has ben so ill to my Meggie? . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 ‘Bat ye gett four-an-tuinty milk-whit steads, We an E an O an O me! An as monny gay ladys to ride them on, To gaa an bring hame my Meggie. 10 ‘Ye gett four-an-tuinty berrie-broun steeds, We an E an O an O me! An as mony knights to ride them one, To gaa an bring hame my Meggie.’ 11 Ye lasses a’, war ever ye be, An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds, Ye’ll happy be, ye’ll happy be, For they ar frank an kin. 12 The’r frank an kin The’r free, An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds, Ye’ll happy be.

‘When ye come to Aboyne’s yetts, Aboyne’s yetts they shine clearly, Ye’ll tak aff your hat, gie a bow wi your knee, Gie the letter to my rantin laddie.’

The baron o Leys is to London gane, All in a mornin early; He’s shod his horse wi siller sheen, An shown them a’ his folly.

1 Aa the skippers of merry Lothen, As they sat att the wine, Ther fell a rosin them among, An it was in an unhappy time. 2 Some of them roused ther haks, An some of them ther hounds, An some of them ther gay ladys, Trood neat on the plain: Young Allan he roused his comely coug, That lay upon the strand. 3 ‘I haa as good a ship this day As ever sailled our seas, Except it be the Burges Black, Bat an the Small Cordvine, The comly coug of Dornisdall; We sall lay that three bay in time.’ 4 Out spak a littel boy, Just att Young Allan’s knee, ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye Young Allan, Sae loud as I hear ye lie. 5 ‘For my master has a littel boat Will sail thris as well as thin; For she’ll come in att your formast An gee out att yer forlee, An nine times in a winter night She’ll take the wine fra the. 6 ‘O fatt will ye wade, ye Young Allan, Or fatt will ye wad we me?’ ‘I ill wad my head agenst yer land, Till I gett more monie.’ 7 They hed na sailed a legg, [a legg,] A legg bat bairly three, Till throug an throu ther bonny ship They saa the green wall sea. 8 They had na sailled a leag, [a leag,] A leag bat barly fave, Till through en throu ther bonny ship They saa the green wall wave. 9 He gied up to the tapmast, To see fat he coud see, An ther he saa the Burges Black, Bat an the Small Cordvine, The comly coug of Dornasdell; The three was rent in nine. 10 Young Allan he grat, an he wrang his hans, An he kent na fat till dee: ‘The win is loud, an the waves is prood, An we will a’ sink in the sea. 11 ‘Bat gin I cod gett a bonny boy To tak my healm in han, . . . . that wad bring My bonny ship safe to lan, 12 ‘He sud gett the tua part of my goud, An the therd part of my lan, An gin me wine safe to shor He sud gett my daughter Ann.’ 13 ‘Hear am I, a bonny boy That will take yer helm in han, . . . . an will bring Your bonny ship safe to land. 14 ‘Ye take four-an-twenty fether-beds, An ye lay the bonny ship roun, An as much of the good cannis As make her hell an soun.’ 15 They took four-an-twenty fether-beds, An laid the bonny ship roun, An as much of the good canies As made her hell an soun. 16 ‘Spring up, my bony ship, An goud sall be yer hair!’ Fan the bonny ship hard of that, Att goud sud be her hire, She sprang as fast fra the sate water As the spark dis frae the fire. 17 ‘Spring up, my bonny ship, An goud sall be yer fee!’ An fan the bonny ship hard of that, Goud was to be her fee, She sprang as fast fra the sat water As the life dos fra the tree. 18 The salors stans on the shore-sid, We ther ill-bukled shen: ‘Thanks to God an our gued master That ever we came to land!’ 19 ‘Far is the bonny boy That took my healm in hand? . . . . that brought My bonny ship safe to land? 20 ‘He’s gett the twa part of my goud, The therd part of my lan, An since we ha wone safe to shore He’s gett my doughter Ann.’ 21 ‘Hear am I, the bonny boy That took yer healm in han, That brought yer bonny ship, An brought her safe to lan. 22 ‘I winnë ha the tua part of yer goud, Nor the therd part of yer lan, Bat since we ha wine safe to shor I will wed yer daugter Ann.’ 23 Fortey ships went to the sea, Forty ships an five, An ther came never on back Bat Young Allan alive.

After 5: ‘That is too good a wager, William, Upon a woman’s mind, It is to[o] good a wager Wil[lia]m, I’m very sure you’l tyne.’

14 ‘Come down, come down, O lady fair, One sight of you I’ll see, And bony is the rings of gold That I will give to thee.’ 15 ‘If you have boney rings of gold, O mine is bony tee; Go from my gate now, Reedesdale, For me you will not see.’ 16 ‘Come down, come down, O lady fair, One sight of you I’ll see, And boney is the bowers and halls That I will give to the.’ 17 ‘If you have boney bowers and halls, I have bowers and halls the same; Go from my gate now, Reedesdale, For down I will not come.’

‘Come hitherward,’ the lady cried, ‘My maidens all, to me; For throw the smoak and throw the heat, All throw it we must be.’

1 Ther was a lady fair an rear, A lady of birth an fame, She loyed her father’s kittchen-boy, The greater was her shame. 2 She coud never her love revell, Nor to him take, Bat in the forests weed an brade, Far they wer wont to wake. 3 It fell ance apon a day Her father went fra home, An she sent for the kitchë-boy Into her room. 4 ‘Canna ye fancë me, Willie? Cannie ye fancë me? By a’ the lords I ever seed, Ther is nane I cane loie bat ye.’ 5 ‘O latt ne this be kent, lady, O lat ne this be knouen, For in yer father got word of this, I vou he wad gare me die.’ 6 ‘Yer life sall na be tane, Willie, Yer life sall na be tean; I rader loss my ain heart-blead Or thy body gat wrang.’ 7 We her mery fair spiches She made the boy bold, Till he began to kiss an clap, An on his love lay hold. 8 They hadne kissed an love-claped, As lovers fan they meatt, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 ‘The master-cook he will on me call, An ansured he man be; In it war kent I war in bour we the, I fear they woud gar me diei.’ 10 ‘The master-cook may on ye call, But ansured he will never be, For I haa thrie coffers fue of goud, Yer eyen did never see. 11 ‘An I will buld a bony ship for my love, An sett her to the seea, An saill she east, or saill she west, The ship sall be fair to see.’ 12 She has buld a bonny ship, An sett her to the sea; The top-masts was of the read goud, The saill of taffety. 13 She gaie him a gay gold ring, . . . . . . To mind him on a gay lady That ance bair love to him. 14 The day was fair, the ship was rair, Fan that suan sett to sea; Fan that day tuall-month came an gade, Att London landed he. 15 A lady louked our castell-wa, Beheld the day gaa doun, An she beheld that bonny ship, Came halling to the toun. 16 ‘Come hear, come hear, my mairës a’, Ye see na fat I see; The bonnest ship is coming to land Yer eyen did ever see. 17 ‘Ye busk ye, busk ye, my marrës a’, Ye busk ye unco fine, Till I gaa doun to yon shore-side To invite yon squar to dine. 18 ‘O ye come up, ye gay young squar, An take we me a dine; Ye sall eatt of the gued white lofe, An drink the claret wine.’ 19 ‘I thank ye for yer bread, I thank ye for yer wine, I thank ye for yer courticë, Bat indeed I hanna time.’ 20 ‘Canna ye fancë me?’ she says, ‘Cannie ye fancë me? Bay a’ the lords an lairds I see, Ther is nane I fancë bat ye.’ 21 ‘They are farr awa fra me,’ he says, ‘The’r farr ayont the sea, That has my heart an hand, An my love ay sall be.’ 22 ‘Hear is a gued gould ring, . . . . . . It will mind ye on a gay lady That ance bare love to ye.’ 23 ‘I haa a ring on my finger I lee thrice as well as thine, Tho yours war of the gued read goud, An mine bat simpell tin.’ 24 The day was fair, the ship was rair, Fan that squar sett to sea; Fan that day tuall-month came an gaid, Att hame again landed he. 25 The lady’s father louked over castell-wa, Beheld the day gaa doun, An he beheld that bonny ship Come halling to the toun. 26 ‘Come hear, my a dother, Ye see na fat I see; The bonnest ship is coming to land My eyen did ever see. 27 ‘Ye busk ye, my dother, Ye busk ye unco fine, An I ill gai doun to yon shore-side An invite yon squer to dine: I wad gie a’ my reants To haa ye marrëd to him.’ 28 ‘They ar farr awa fra me,’ she says, ‘The’r far ayont the sea, That has my heart an hand, An my love ay sall be.’ 29 ‘O will ye come, ye gay hine squar, An take we me a dine? Ye sall eat of the gued fait bread An drink the claret wine.’ 30 ‘I thank ye for yer bread, I thank ye for your wine, I thank ye for your courtisy, For indeed I haa na grait time.’ 31 ‘O cannie ye fancë me?’ [he says, ‘Cannie ye fancë me?] By a’ the ladys I ever did see, Ther is nain I lue bat ye.’ 32 ‘They are farr awa fra me,’ she says, They are farr ayont the sea, That has my heart an han, An my love ay sall be.’ 33 ‘Hear it is, a gay goud ring, . . . . . . . It will mind ye on a gay hin chill That ance bare love to ye.’ 34 ‘O gatt ye that ring on the sea saling? Or gat ye it on the sand? Or gat ye it on the shore laying, On a drouned man’s hand?’ 35 ‘I got na it on the sea saling, I got na it on the sand, Bat I gat it on the shore laying, On a drouned man’s hand. 36 ‘O bonny was his chike, And lovely was his face!’ ‘Alass,’ says she, ‘it is my true-love Willie, . . . . . . . .’ 37 He turned him rond about, An suitly could he smill; She turned her round, says, My love Willie, Hou could ye me biggeall? 38 ‘A prist, a prist,’ the old man crayed, ‘Latt this tua marrëd be:’ Bat lettel did the old man keen It was his ain kittchen-boy.