235THE EARL OF ABOYNE

A.‘The Earl of Aboyne,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 351.

B.‘The Earl of Aboyne.’a.Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 71.b. Gibb MS., p. 29, No 5.

C.Skene MS., p. 58.

D.‘The Earl o Boyn,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 17, Abbotsford.

E.‘Earl of Aboyne,’ Harris MS., fol. 21 b.

F.‘The Earl of Aboyne,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 635.

G.Motherwell’s MS., p. 131.

H.‘Bonny Peggy Irvine,’ Campbell MSS, II, 105.

I.‘Earl of Aboyne,’ or, ‘Bonny Peggy Irvine,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 128.

J.‘Earl of Aboyne,’ or, ‘Bonny Peggy Irvine,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 135.

K.From the recitation of Miss Fanny Walker, two stanzas.

L.‘Earl of Aboyne,’ Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 54, one stanza.

The copy in The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown [Joseph Robertson], Aberdeen, 1832, p. 26, isB awith a few editorial changes. It is repeated in The Deeside Guide, Aberdeen, 1889, with slight variations. The copy in Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 22, is “given from the way the editor has heard it sung, assisted by Mr Buchan’s copy in his Gleanings;” in fact, it isB awith unimportant variations, which must be treated as arbitrary. Smith’s New History of Aberdeenshire, I, 207, repeats Aytoun, nearly, and Aytoun, II, 309, 1859,B a, nearly.

None of the versions here given go beyond 1800. Mrs Brown of Falkland, in an unprinted letter to Alexander Fraser Tytler, December 23, 1800, offers him ‘The Death of the Countess of Aboyne,’ which she had heard sung when a child: see p. 309, note.

A-I.The Earl of Aboyne (who is kind but careless,E) goes to London without his wife, and stays overlong. Information comes by letter that he has married there,B, or that he is in love with another woman,D. Word is brought that he is on his way home, and very near. His lady orders stable-grooms, minstrels, cooks, housemaids, to bestir themselves,A-E,I,K, makes a handsome toilet,A,B,D,E,F, and calls for wine to drink his health,B,C,D,G. She comes down to the close to take him from his horse,B,C,D,F, and bids him thrice welcome. “Kiss me then for my coming,” says the earl, and surprises his wife, and all of us, by adding that the morrow would have been his wedding-day, if he had stayed in London. The lady gives him an angry and disdainful answer. This he resents, and orders his men to mount again; he will go first to the Bog of Gight to see the Marquis of Huntly, and then return to London. The lady attempts, through a servant, to get permission to accompany him, but is repulsed,A,B,C,D(misplaced inG). According toA,C,D24,F, the countess languished for about a twelvemonth, and then died of a broken heart; butD25,G,H, make her death ensue before or shortly after the earl’s arrival at the Bog o Gight. Aboyne is very much distressed at the tidings; he would rather have lost all his lands than Margaret Irvine,C,D,E,G,H. He goes to the burial with a train of gentlemen, all in black from the hose to the hat,A,C(horse to the hat,B,E,F).

J.No Earl of Aboyne ever married an Irvine,and no Earl of Aboyne would have meditated open bigamy, and have informed his wife while receiving her welcome home how near he had come to perpetrating the same. The historical difficulty and the practical absurdity are removed by assuming thatJalone has preserved (or restored) the true and original story, and that all the other copies, beginning with Mrs Brown’s, which calls the lady the Countess of Aboyne, have gone wrong. InJ, Peggy Irvine is only Aboyne’s love, 13, and Aboyne is her true lover, 83. Aboyne was careless and kind, and kind to every woman, and Aboyne staid over long in London,A, and the ladies they did invite him,H. Under these circumstances, some Aboyne may have been on the brink of deserting a Peggy Irvine to whom he was engaged.

Aboyne is Boyn,D, Boon,H; Irvine is Harboun, Harvey,D, Ewan,E,K; Bog o Gight is Bogs o the Geich,D, Bogs o the Gay,G, Bughts o the Gight,H, Bog o Keith,J. The Bog o Gight is made Aboyne’s property inD,G,H. The Marquis of Huntly is blamed by Aboyne for inciting him to unkindness,D28,G11.

Kinloch MSS, V, 351; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.

1The Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind,He’s kind to every woman,And the Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind,But he stays ower lang in London.2The ladie she stood on her stair-head,Beholding his grooms a coming;She knew by their livery and raiment so rareThat their last voyage was from London.3‘My groms all, ye’ll be well in call,Hold all the stables shining;With a bretther o degs ye’ll clear up my nags,Sin my gude Lord Aboyne is a coming.4‘My minstrels all, be well in call,Hold all my galleries ringing;With music springs ye’ll try well your strings,Sin my gude lord’s a coming.5‘My cooks all, be well in call,Wi pots and spits well ranked;And nothing shall ye want that ye call for,Sin my gude Lord Aboyne’s a coming.6‘My chamber-maids, ye’ll dress up my beds,Hold all my rooms in shining;With Dantzic waters ye’ll sprinkle my walls,Sin my good lord’s a coming.’7Her shoes was of the small cordain,Her stockings silken twisting;Cambrick so clear was the pretty lady’s smock,And her stays o the braided sattin.8Her coat was of the white sarsenent,Set out wi silver quiltin,And her gown was o the silk damask,Set about wi red gold walting.9Her hair was like the threads of gold,Wi the silk and sarsanet shining,Wi her fingers sae white, and the gold rings sae grite,To welcome her lord from London.10Sae stately she steppit down the stair,And walkit to meet him coming;Said, O ye’r welcome, my bonny lord,Ye’r thrice welcome home from London!11‘If this be so that ye let me know,Ye’ll come kiss me for my coming,For the morn should hae been my bonny wedding-dayHad I stayed the night in London.’12Then she turned her about wi an angry look,O for such an a sorry woman!‘If this be so that ye let me know,Gang kiss your ladies in London.’13Then he looked ower his left shoulderTo the worthie companie wi him;Says he, Isna this an unworthy welcomeThe we’ve got, comin from London!14‘Get yer horse in call, my nobles all,And I’m sorry for yer coming,But we’ll horse, and awa to the bonny Bog o Gight,And then we’ll go on to London.’15‘If this be Thomas, as they call you,You’ll see if he’ll hae me with him;And nothing shall he be troubled with meBut myself and my waiting-woman.’16‘I’ve asked it already, lady,’ he says,‘And your humble servant, madam;But one single mile he winna lat you rideWi his company and him to London.’17A year and mare she lived in care,And doctors wi her dealin,And with a crack her sweet heart brack,And the letters is on to London.18When the letters he got, they were all sealed in black,And he fell in a grievous weeping;He said, She is dead whom I loved bestIf I had but her heart in keepin.19Then fifteen o the finest lordsThat London could afford him,From their hose to their hat, they were all clad in black,For the sake of her corpse, Margaret Irvine.20The furder he gaed, the sorer he wept,Come keping her corpse, Margaret Irvine.Until that he came to the yetts of Aboyne,Where the corpse of his lady was lying.

1The Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind,He’s kind to every woman,And the Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind,But he stays ower lang in London.

The Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind,

He’s kind to every woman,

And the Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind,

But he stays ower lang in London.

2The ladie she stood on her stair-head,Beholding his grooms a coming;She knew by their livery and raiment so rareThat their last voyage was from London.

The ladie she stood on her stair-head,

Beholding his grooms a coming;

She knew by their livery and raiment so rare

That their last voyage was from London.

3‘My groms all, ye’ll be well in call,Hold all the stables shining;With a bretther o degs ye’ll clear up my nags,Sin my gude Lord Aboyne is a coming.

‘My groms all, ye’ll be well in call,

Hold all the stables shining;

With a bretther o degs ye’ll clear up my nags,

Sin my gude Lord Aboyne is a coming.

4‘My minstrels all, be well in call,Hold all my galleries ringing;With music springs ye’ll try well your strings,Sin my gude lord’s a coming.

‘My minstrels all, be well in call,

Hold all my galleries ringing;

With music springs ye’ll try well your strings,

Sin my gude lord’s a coming.

5‘My cooks all, be well in call,Wi pots and spits well ranked;And nothing shall ye want that ye call for,Sin my gude Lord Aboyne’s a coming.

‘My cooks all, be well in call,

Wi pots and spits well ranked;

And nothing shall ye want that ye call for,

Sin my gude Lord Aboyne’s a coming.

6‘My chamber-maids, ye’ll dress up my beds,Hold all my rooms in shining;With Dantzic waters ye’ll sprinkle my walls,Sin my good lord’s a coming.’

‘My chamber-maids, ye’ll dress up my beds,

Hold all my rooms in shining;

With Dantzic waters ye’ll sprinkle my walls,

Sin my good lord’s a coming.’

7Her shoes was of the small cordain,Her stockings silken twisting;Cambrick so clear was the pretty lady’s smock,And her stays o the braided sattin.

Her shoes was of the small cordain,

Her stockings silken twisting;

Cambrick so clear was the pretty lady’s smock,

And her stays o the braided sattin.

8Her coat was of the white sarsenent,Set out wi silver quiltin,And her gown was o the silk damask,Set about wi red gold walting.

Her coat was of the white sarsenent,

Set out wi silver quiltin,

And her gown was o the silk damask,

Set about wi red gold walting.

9Her hair was like the threads of gold,Wi the silk and sarsanet shining,Wi her fingers sae white, and the gold rings sae grite,To welcome her lord from London.

Her hair was like the threads of gold,

Wi the silk and sarsanet shining,

Wi her fingers sae white, and the gold rings sae grite,

To welcome her lord from London.

10Sae stately she steppit down the stair,And walkit to meet him coming;Said, O ye’r welcome, my bonny lord,Ye’r thrice welcome home from London!

Sae stately she steppit down the stair,

And walkit to meet him coming;

Said, O ye’r welcome, my bonny lord,

Ye’r thrice welcome home from London!

11‘If this be so that ye let me know,Ye’ll come kiss me for my coming,For the morn should hae been my bonny wedding-dayHad I stayed the night in London.’

‘If this be so that ye let me know,

Ye’ll come kiss me for my coming,

For the morn should hae been my bonny wedding-day

Had I stayed the night in London.’

12Then she turned her about wi an angry look,O for such an a sorry woman!‘If this be so that ye let me know,Gang kiss your ladies in London.’

Then she turned her about wi an angry look,

O for such an a sorry woman!

‘If this be so that ye let me know,

Gang kiss your ladies in London.’

13Then he looked ower his left shoulderTo the worthie companie wi him;Says he, Isna this an unworthy welcomeThe we’ve got, comin from London!

Then he looked ower his left shoulder

To the worthie companie wi him;

Says he, Isna this an unworthy welcome

The we’ve got, comin from London!

14‘Get yer horse in call, my nobles all,And I’m sorry for yer coming,But we’ll horse, and awa to the bonny Bog o Gight,And then we’ll go on to London.’

‘Get yer horse in call, my nobles all,

And I’m sorry for yer coming,

But we’ll horse, and awa to the bonny Bog o Gight,

And then we’ll go on to London.’

15‘If this be Thomas, as they call you,You’ll see if he’ll hae me with him;And nothing shall he be troubled with meBut myself and my waiting-woman.’

‘If this be Thomas, as they call you,

You’ll see if he’ll hae me with him;

And nothing shall he be troubled with me

But myself and my waiting-woman.’

16‘I’ve asked it already, lady,’ he says,‘And your humble servant, madam;But one single mile he winna lat you rideWi his company and him to London.’

‘I’ve asked it already, lady,’ he says,

‘And your humble servant, madam;

But one single mile he winna lat you ride

Wi his company and him to London.’

17A year and mare she lived in care,And doctors wi her dealin,And with a crack her sweet heart brack,And the letters is on to London.

A year and mare she lived in care,

And doctors wi her dealin,

And with a crack her sweet heart brack,

And the letters is on to London.

18When the letters he got, they were all sealed in black,And he fell in a grievous weeping;He said, She is dead whom I loved bestIf I had but her heart in keepin.

When the letters he got, they were all sealed in black,

And he fell in a grievous weeping;

He said, She is dead whom I loved best

If I had but her heart in keepin.

19Then fifteen o the finest lordsThat London could afford him,From their hose to their hat, they were all clad in black,For the sake of her corpse, Margaret Irvine.

Then fifteen o the finest lords

That London could afford him,

From their hose to their hat, they were all clad in black,

For the sake of her corpse, Margaret Irvine.

20The furder he gaed, the sorer he wept,Come keping her corpse, Margaret Irvine.Until that he came to the yetts of Aboyne,Where the corpse of his lady was lying.

The furder he gaed, the sorer he wept,

Come keping her corpse, Margaret Irvine.

Until that he came to the yetts of Aboyne,

Where the corpse of his lady was lying.

a.Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 71, 1825.b.Gibb MS., p. 29, No 5, 1882, as learned by Mrs Gibb, senior, “fifty years ago,” in Strachan, Kincardineshire.

1The Earl o Aboyne to old England’s gone,An a his nobles wi him;Sair was the heart his fair lady hadBecause she wanna wi him.2As she was a walking in her garden green,Amang her gentlewomen,Sad was the letter that came to her,Her lord was wed in Lunan.3‘Is this true, my Jean,’ she says,‘My lord is wed in Lunan?’‘O no, O no, my lady gay,For the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’4When she was looking oer her castell-wa,She spied twa boys comin:‘What news, what news, my bonny boys?What news hae ye frae Lunan?’5‘Good news, good news, my lady gay,The Lord o Aboyne is comin;He’s scarcely twa miles frae the place,Ye’ll hear his bridles ringin.’6‘O my grooms all, be well on call,An hae your stables shinin;Of corn an hay spare nane this day,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.7‘My minstrels all, be well on call,And set your harps a tunin,Wi the finest springs, spare not the strings,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.8‘My cooks all, be well on call,An had your spits a runnin,Wi the best o roast, an spare nae cost,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.9‘My maids all, be well on call,An hae your flours a shinin;Cover oer the stair wi herbs sweet an fair,Cover the flours wi linen,An dress my bodie in the finest array,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’10Her gown was o the guid green silk,Fastned wi red silk trimmin;Her apron was o the guid black gaze,Her hood o the finest linen.11Sae stately she stept down the stair,To look gin he was comin;She called on Kate, her chamer-maid,An Jean, her gentlewoman,To bring her a bottle of the best wine,To drink his health that’s comin.12She’s gaen to the close, taen him frae’s horse,Says, You’r thrice welcome fra Lunan!‘If I be as welcome hauf as ye say,Come kiss me for my comin,For tomorrow should been my wedding-dayGin I’de staid on langer in Lunan.’13She turned about wi a disdainful lookTo Jean, her gentlewoman:‘If tomorrow should been your wedding-day,Go kiss your whores in Lunan.’14‘O my nobles all, now turn your steeds,I’m sorry for my comin;For the night we’ll alight at the bonny Bog o Gight,Tomorrow tak horse for Lunan.’15‘O Thomas, my man, gae after him,An spier gin I’ll win wi him;’‘Yes, madam, I hae pleaded for thee,But a mile ye winna win wi him.’16Here and there she ran in care,An doctors wi her dealin;But in a crak her bonny heart brak,And letters gaed to Lunan.17When he saw the letter sealed wi black,He fell on’s horse a weeping:‘If she be dead that I love best,She has my heart a keepin.18‘My nobles all, ye’ll turn your steeds,That comely face [I] may see then;Frae the horse to the hat, a’ must be black,And mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine.’19When they came near to the place,They heard the dead-bell knellin,And aye the turnin o the bellSaid, Come bury bonny Peggy Irvine.

1The Earl o Aboyne to old England’s gone,An a his nobles wi him;Sair was the heart his fair lady hadBecause she wanna wi him.

The Earl o Aboyne to old England’s gone,

An a his nobles wi him;

Sair was the heart his fair lady had

Because she wanna wi him.

2As she was a walking in her garden green,Amang her gentlewomen,Sad was the letter that came to her,Her lord was wed in Lunan.

As she was a walking in her garden green,

Amang her gentlewomen,

Sad was the letter that came to her,

Her lord was wed in Lunan.

3‘Is this true, my Jean,’ she says,‘My lord is wed in Lunan?’‘O no, O no, my lady gay,For the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’

‘Is this true, my Jean,’ she says,

‘My lord is wed in Lunan?’

‘O no, O no, my lady gay,

For the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’

4When she was looking oer her castell-wa,She spied twa boys comin:‘What news, what news, my bonny boys?What news hae ye frae Lunan?’

When she was looking oer her castell-wa,

She spied twa boys comin:

‘What news, what news, my bonny boys?

What news hae ye frae Lunan?’

5‘Good news, good news, my lady gay,The Lord o Aboyne is comin;He’s scarcely twa miles frae the place,Ye’ll hear his bridles ringin.’

‘Good news, good news, my lady gay,

The Lord o Aboyne is comin;

He’s scarcely twa miles frae the place,

Ye’ll hear his bridles ringin.’

6‘O my grooms all, be well on call,An hae your stables shinin;Of corn an hay spare nane this day,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

‘O my grooms all, be well on call,

An hae your stables shinin;

Of corn an hay spare nane this day,

Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

7‘My minstrels all, be well on call,And set your harps a tunin,Wi the finest springs, spare not the strings,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

‘My minstrels all, be well on call,

And set your harps a tunin,

Wi the finest springs, spare not the strings,

Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

8‘My cooks all, be well on call,An had your spits a runnin,Wi the best o roast, an spare nae cost,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

‘My cooks all, be well on call,

An had your spits a runnin,

Wi the best o roast, an spare nae cost,

Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

9‘My maids all, be well on call,An hae your flours a shinin;Cover oer the stair wi herbs sweet an fair,Cover the flours wi linen,An dress my bodie in the finest array,Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’

‘My maids all, be well on call,

An hae your flours a shinin;

Cover oer the stair wi herbs sweet an fair,

Cover the flours wi linen,

An dress my bodie in the finest array,

Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’

10Her gown was o the guid green silk,Fastned wi red silk trimmin;Her apron was o the guid black gaze,Her hood o the finest linen.

Her gown was o the guid green silk,

Fastned wi red silk trimmin;

Her apron was o the guid black gaze,

Her hood o the finest linen.

11Sae stately she stept down the stair,To look gin he was comin;She called on Kate, her chamer-maid,An Jean, her gentlewoman,To bring her a bottle of the best wine,To drink his health that’s comin.

Sae stately she stept down the stair,

To look gin he was comin;

She called on Kate, her chamer-maid,

An Jean, her gentlewoman,

To bring her a bottle of the best wine,

To drink his health that’s comin.

12She’s gaen to the close, taen him frae’s horse,Says, You’r thrice welcome fra Lunan!‘If I be as welcome hauf as ye say,Come kiss me for my comin,For tomorrow should been my wedding-dayGin I’de staid on langer in Lunan.’

She’s gaen to the close, taen him frae’s horse,

Says, You’r thrice welcome fra Lunan!

‘If I be as welcome hauf as ye say,

Come kiss me for my comin,

For tomorrow should been my wedding-day

Gin I’de staid on langer in Lunan.’

13She turned about wi a disdainful lookTo Jean, her gentlewoman:‘If tomorrow should been your wedding-day,Go kiss your whores in Lunan.’

She turned about wi a disdainful look

To Jean, her gentlewoman:

‘If tomorrow should been your wedding-day,

Go kiss your whores in Lunan.’

14‘O my nobles all, now turn your steeds,I’m sorry for my comin;For the night we’ll alight at the bonny Bog o Gight,Tomorrow tak horse for Lunan.’

‘O my nobles all, now turn your steeds,

I’m sorry for my comin;

For the night we’ll alight at the bonny Bog o Gight,

Tomorrow tak horse for Lunan.’

15‘O Thomas, my man, gae after him,An spier gin I’ll win wi him;’‘Yes, madam, I hae pleaded for thee,But a mile ye winna win wi him.’

‘O Thomas, my man, gae after him,

An spier gin I’ll win wi him;’

‘Yes, madam, I hae pleaded for thee,

But a mile ye winna win wi him.’

16Here and there she ran in care,An doctors wi her dealin;But in a crak her bonny heart brak,And letters gaed to Lunan.

Here and there she ran in care,

An doctors wi her dealin;

But in a crak her bonny heart brak,

And letters gaed to Lunan.

17When he saw the letter sealed wi black,He fell on’s horse a weeping:‘If she be dead that I love best,She has my heart a keepin.

When he saw the letter sealed wi black,

He fell on’s horse a weeping:

‘If she be dead that I love best,

She has my heart a keepin.

18‘My nobles all, ye’ll turn your steeds,That comely face [I] may see then;Frae the horse to the hat, a’ must be black,And mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine.’

‘My nobles all, ye’ll turn your steeds,

That comely face [I] may see then;

Frae the horse to the hat, a’ must be black,

And mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine.’

19When they came near to the place,They heard the dead-bell knellin,And aye the turnin o the bellSaid, Come bury bonny Peggy Irvine.

When they came near to the place,

They heard the dead-bell knellin,

And aye the turnin o the bell

Said, Come bury bonny Peggy Irvine.

Skene MS., p. 58; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802–3.

1The Earl of Aboyne he’s careless an kin,An he is new come frae London;He sent his man him before,To tell o his hame-comin.2First she called on her chamberline,Sin on Jeanie, her gentlewoman:‘Bring me a glass o the best claret win,To drink my good lord’s well-hame-comin.3‘My servants all, be ready at a call.. . . . . . .. . . . . . .For the Lord of Aboyne is comin4‘My cooks all, be ready at a call. . . . . . .Wi the very best of meat,For the Lord of Aboyne is comin.5‘My maids all, be ready at a call,. . . . . . .The rooms I’ve the best all to be dressd,For the Lord of Aboyn is comin.’6She did her to the closs to take him fra his horse,An she welcomed him frae London:. . . . . . .‘Ye’r welcome, my good lord, frae London!’7‘An I be sae welcome, he says,‘Ye’ll kiss me for my comin,For the morn sud hae bin my weddin-dayGif I had staid in London.’8She turned her about wi a disdainfull look,Dear, she was a pretty woman!‘Gif the morn shud hae bin yer weddin-day,Ye may kiss your whores in London.’9. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘So I shall, madam, an ye’s hae na mare to sey,For I’ll dine wi the Marquis of Huntley.’10She did her to his servant-man,I wat they caed him Peter Gordon:‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will let meWi him a single mile to ride [to London].’11‘Ye need not, madam, . . .I have asked him already;He will not let ye a single mile ride,For he is to dine with the Marquis o Huntly.’12She called on her chamber-maid,Sin on Jean, her gentlewoman:‘Ge make my bed, an tye up my head,Woe’s me for his hame-comin!’13She lived a year and day, wi mickle grief and wae,The doctors were wi her dealin;Within a crack, her heart it brack,An the letters they went to London.14He gae the table wi his foot,An koupd it wi his knee,Gared silver cup an easer dishIn flinders flee.15. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘I wad I had lost a’ the lands o AboyneOr I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’16He called on his best serving-man,I wat the caed him Peter Gordon:‘Gae get our horses saddled wi speed,Woe’s me for our hame-comin!17. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘For we will a’ be in black, fra the hose to the hat,Woe’s me for bonny Margat Irvine!18‘We must to the North, to bury her corps,Alas for our hame-comin!I rather I had lost a’ the lands o AboyneOr I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

1The Earl of Aboyne he’s careless an kin,An he is new come frae London;He sent his man him before,To tell o his hame-comin.

The Earl of Aboyne he’s careless an kin,

An he is new come frae London;

He sent his man him before,

To tell o his hame-comin.

2First she called on her chamberline,Sin on Jeanie, her gentlewoman:‘Bring me a glass o the best claret win,To drink my good lord’s well-hame-comin.

First she called on her chamberline,

Sin on Jeanie, her gentlewoman:

‘Bring me a glass o the best claret win,

To drink my good lord’s well-hame-comin.

3‘My servants all, be ready at a call.. . . . . . .. . . . . . .For the Lord of Aboyne is comin

‘My servants all, be ready at a call.

. . . . . . .

For the Lord of Aboyne is comin

4‘My cooks all, be ready at a call. . . . . . .Wi the very best of meat,For the Lord of Aboyne is comin.

‘My cooks all, be ready at a call

. . . . . . .

Wi the very best of meat,

For the Lord of Aboyne is comin.

5‘My maids all, be ready at a call,. . . . . . .The rooms I’ve the best all to be dressd,For the Lord of Aboyn is comin.’

‘My maids all, be ready at a call,

. . . . . . .

The rooms I’ve the best all to be dressd,

For the Lord of Aboyn is comin.’

6She did her to the closs to take him fra his horse,An she welcomed him frae London:. . . . . . .‘Ye’r welcome, my good lord, frae London!’

She did her to the closs to take him fra his horse,

An she welcomed him frae London:

. . . . . . .

‘Ye’r welcome, my good lord, frae London!’

7‘An I be sae welcome, he says,‘Ye’ll kiss me for my comin,For the morn sud hae bin my weddin-dayGif I had staid in London.’

‘An I be sae welcome, he says,

‘Ye’ll kiss me for my comin,

For the morn sud hae bin my weddin-day

Gif I had staid in London.’

8She turned her about wi a disdainfull look,Dear, she was a pretty woman!‘Gif the morn shud hae bin yer weddin-day,Ye may kiss your whores in London.’

She turned her about wi a disdainfull look,

Dear, she was a pretty woman!

‘Gif the morn shud hae bin yer weddin-day,

Ye may kiss your whores in London.’

9. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘So I shall, madam, an ye’s hae na mare to sey,For I’ll dine wi the Marquis of Huntley.’

. . . . . . .

‘So I shall, madam, an ye’s hae na mare to sey,

For I’ll dine wi the Marquis of Huntley.’

10She did her to his servant-man,I wat they caed him Peter Gordon:‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will let meWi him a single mile to ride [to London].’

She did her to his servant-man,

I wat they caed him Peter Gordon:

‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will let me

Wi him a single mile to ride [to London].’

11‘Ye need not, madam, . . .I have asked him already;He will not let ye a single mile ride,For he is to dine with the Marquis o Huntly.’

‘Ye need not, madam, . . .

I have asked him already;

He will not let ye a single mile ride,

For he is to dine with the Marquis o Huntly.’

12She called on her chamber-maid,Sin on Jean, her gentlewoman:‘Ge make my bed, an tye up my head,Woe’s me for his hame-comin!’

She called on her chamber-maid,

Sin on Jean, her gentlewoman:

‘Ge make my bed, an tye up my head,

Woe’s me for his hame-comin!’

13She lived a year and day, wi mickle grief and wae,The doctors were wi her dealin;Within a crack, her heart it brack,An the letters they went to London.

She lived a year and day, wi mickle grief and wae,

The doctors were wi her dealin;

Within a crack, her heart it brack,

An the letters they went to London.

14He gae the table wi his foot,An koupd it wi his knee,Gared silver cup an easer dishIn flinders flee.

He gae the table wi his foot,

An koupd it wi his knee,

Gared silver cup an easer dish

In flinders flee.

15. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘I wad I had lost a’ the lands o AboyneOr I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

. . . . . . .

‘I wad I had lost a’ the lands o Aboyne

Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

16He called on his best serving-man,I wat the caed him Peter Gordon:‘Gae get our horses saddled wi speed,Woe’s me for our hame-comin!

He called on his best serving-man,

I wat the caed him Peter Gordon:

‘Gae get our horses saddled wi speed,

Woe’s me for our hame-comin!

17. . . . . . .. . . . . . .‘For we will a’ be in black, fra the hose to the hat,Woe’s me for bonny Margat Irvine!

. . . . . . .

‘For we will a’ be in black, fra the hose to the hat,

Woe’s me for bonny Margat Irvine!

18‘We must to the North, to bury her corps,Alas for our hame-comin!I rather I had lost a’ the lands o AboyneOr I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

‘We must to the North, to bury her corps,

Alas for our hame-comin!

I rather I had lost a’ the lands o Aboyne

Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 17; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.

1The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to Lonon gone,An a’ his gallan grooms wie him,But, for a’ the ribbons that hing at her hat,He has left his fair lady behind him.2He had not been in London tounA month but barely one, O,Till the letters an the senes they came to her handThat he was in love with another woman.3‘O what think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,‘What think ye o my lord at London?What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,‘He’s in love wie another woman.’4That lady lookd out at her closet-window,An saw the gallan grooms coming;‘What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,‘For yonder the gallan grooms coming.’5Stately, stately steppit she dounTo welcome the gallan grooms from London:‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, gallan grooms a’;Is the guid Earl o Boyn a coming?6‘What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’?What news have ye from London?What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’?Is the guid Earl o Boyn a-coming?’7‘No news, no news,’ said they gallan grooms a’,‘No news hae we from London;No news, no news,’ said the gallan grooms a’,‘But the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming,An he’s not two miles from the palace-gates,An he’s fast coming hame from London.’8‘Ye stable-grooms a’, be ready at the ca,An have a’ your stables in shening,An sprinkle them over wie some costly water,Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.9‘Ye pretty cooks a’, be ready at the ca,An have a’ your spits in turning,An see that ye spare neither cost nor pains,Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.10‘Ye servant-maids, ye’ll trim up the beds,An wipe a’ the rooms oer wie linnen,An put a double daisy at every stair-head,Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.11‘Ye’ll call to me my chambermaid,An Jean, my gentlewoman,An they’ll dress me in some fine array.Since the good Earl o Boyn’s a coming.’12Her stockens were o the good fine silk,An her shirt it was o the camric,An her goun it was a’ giltit oer,An she was a’ hung oer wie rubbies.13That lady lookd out at her closet-window,An she thought she saw him coming:‘Go fetch to me some fine Spanish wine,That I may drink his health that’s a coming.’14Stately, stately steppit she dounTo welcome her lord from London,An as she walked through the closeShe’s peed him from his horse.15‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, my dearest dear,Ye’re three times welcome from London!’‘If I be as welcome as ye say,Ye’ll kiss me for my coming;Come kiss me, come kiss me, my dearest dear,Come kiss me, my bonny Peggy Harboun.’16O she threw her arms aroun his neck,To kiss him for his coming:‘If I had stayed another day,I’d been in love wie another woman.’17She turned her about wie a very stingy look,She was as sorry as any woman;She threw a napkin out-oure her face,Says, Gang kiss your whore at London.18‘Ye’ll mount an go, my gallan grooms a’,Ye’ll mount and back again to London;Had I known this to be the answer my Meggy’s gein me,I had stayed some longer at London.’19‘Go, Jack, my livery boy,’ she says,‘Go ask if he’ll take me wie him;An he shall hae nae cumre o meBut mysel an my waiting-woman.’20‘O the laus o London the’re very severe,They are not for a woman;An ye are too low in coach for to ride,I’m your humble servant, madam.21‘My friends they were a’ angry at meFor marrying ane o the house o Harvey;And ye are too low in coach for to ride,I’m your humble servant, lady.22‘Go saddle for me my steeds,’ he says,‘Go saddle them soon and softly,For I maun awa to the Bogs o the Geich,An speak wi the Marquess o Huntly.’23The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to London gone,An a’ his gallan gro[o]ms wie him;But his lady fair he’s left behindBoth a sick an a sorry woman.24O many were the letters she after him did send,A’ the way back again to London,An in less than a twelvemonth her heart it did break,For the loss o her lord at London.25He was not won well to the Bogs o the Geich,Nor his horses scarcely batit,Till the letters and the senes they came to his handThat his lady was newly strickit.26‘O is she dead? or is she sick?O woe’s me for my coming!I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the GeichOr I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.’27He took the table wi his foot,Made a’ the room to tremble:‘I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the GeichOr I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.28‘Oh an alas! an O woe’s me!An wo to the Marquess o Huntly.Wha causd the Earl o Boyn prove sae very unkinTo a true an a beautifu lady!’29There were fifteen o the bravest gentlemen,An the bravest o the lords o London,They went a’ to attend her burial-day,But the Earl o Boyn could not go wi them.

1The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to Lonon gone,An a’ his gallan grooms wie him,But, for a’ the ribbons that hing at her hat,He has left his fair lady behind him.

The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to Lonon gone,

An a’ his gallan grooms wie him,

But, for a’ the ribbons that hing at her hat,

He has left his fair lady behind him.

2He had not been in London tounA month but barely one, O,Till the letters an the senes they came to her handThat he was in love with another woman.

He had not been in London toun

A month but barely one, O,

Till the letters an the senes they came to her hand

That he was in love with another woman.

3‘O what think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,‘What think ye o my lord at London?What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,‘He’s in love wie another woman.’

‘O what think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,

‘What think ye o my lord at London?

What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,

‘He’s in love wie another woman.’

4That lady lookd out at her closet-window,An saw the gallan grooms coming;‘What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,‘For yonder the gallan grooms coming.’

That lady lookd out at her closet-window,

An saw the gallan grooms coming;

‘What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says,

‘For yonder the gallan grooms coming.’

5Stately, stately steppit she dounTo welcome the gallan grooms from London:‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, gallan grooms a’;Is the guid Earl o Boyn a coming?

Stately, stately steppit she doun

To welcome the gallan grooms from London:

‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, gallan grooms a’;

Is the guid Earl o Boyn a coming?

6‘What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’?What news have ye from London?What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’?Is the guid Earl o Boyn a-coming?’

‘What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’?

What news have ye from London?

What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’?

Is the guid Earl o Boyn a-coming?’

7‘No news, no news,’ said they gallan grooms a’,‘No news hae we from London;No news, no news,’ said the gallan grooms a’,‘But the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming,An he’s not two miles from the palace-gates,An he’s fast coming hame from London.’

‘No news, no news,’ said they gallan grooms a’,

‘No news hae we from London;

No news, no news,’ said the gallan grooms a’,

‘But the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming,

An he’s not two miles from the palace-gates,

An he’s fast coming hame from London.’

8‘Ye stable-grooms a’, be ready at the ca,An have a’ your stables in shening,An sprinkle them over wie some costly water,Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

‘Ye stable-grooms a’, be ready at the ca,

An have a’ your stables in shening,

An sprinkle them over wie some costly water,

Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

9‘Ye pretty cooks a’, be ready at the ca,An have a’ your spits in turning,An see that ye spare neither cost nor pains,Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

‘Ye pretty cooks a’, be ready at the ca,

An have a’ your spits in turning,

An see that ye spare neither cost nor pains,

Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

10‘Ye servant-maids, ye’ll trim up the beds,An wipe a’ the rooms oer wie linnen,An put a double daisy at every stair-head,Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

‘Ye servant-maids, ye’ll trim up the beds,

An wipe a’ the rooms oer wie linnen,

An put a double daisy at every stair-head,

Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

11‘Ye’ll call to me my chambermaid,An Jean, my gentlewoman,An they’ll dress me in some fine array.Since the good Earl o Boyn’s a coming.’

‘Ye’ll call to me my chambermaid,

An Jean, my gentlewoman,

An they’ll dress me in some fine array.

Since the good Earl o Boyn’s a coming.’

12Her stockens were o the good fine silk,An her shirt it was o the camric,An her goun it was a’ giltit oer,An she was a’ hung oer wie rubbies.

Her stockens were o the good fine silk,

An her shirt it was o the camric,

An her goun it was a’ giltit oer,

An she was a’ hung oer wie rubbies.

13That lady lookd out at her closet-window,An she thought she saw him coming:‘Go fetch to me some fine Spanish wine,That I may drink his health that’s a coming.’

That lady lookd out at her closet-window,

An she thought she saw him coming:

‘Go fetch to me some fine Spanish wine,

That I may drink his health that’s a coming.’

14Stately, stately steppit she dounTo welcome her lord from London,An as she walked through the closeShe’s peed him from his horse.

Stately, stately steppit she doun

To welcome her lord from London,

An as she walked through the close

She’s peed him from his horse.

15‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, my dearest dear,Ye’re three times welcome from London!’‘If I be as welcome as ye say,Ye’ll kiss me for my coming;Come kiss me, come kiss me, my dearest dear,Come kiss me, my bonny Peggy Harboun.’

‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, my dearest dear,

Ye’re three times welcome from London!’

‘If I be as welcome as ye say,

Ye’ll kiss me for my coming;

Come kiss me, come kiss me, my dearest dear,

Come kiss me, my bonny Peggy Harboun.’

16O she threw her arms aroun his neck,To kiss him for his coming:‘If I had stayed another day,I’d been in love wie another woman.’

O she threw her arms aroun his neck,

To kiss him for his coming:

‘If I had stayed another day,

I’d been in love wie another woman.’

17She turned her about wie a very stingy look,She was as sorry as any woman;She threw a napkin out-oure her face,Says, Gang kiss your whore at London.

She turned her about wie a very stingy look,

She was as sorry as any woman;

She threw a napkin out-oure her face,

Says, Gang kiss your whore at London.

18‘Ye’ll mount an go, my gallan grooms a’,Ye’ll mount and back again to London;Had I known this to be the answer my Meggy’s gein me,I had stayed some longer at London.’

‘Ye’ll mount an go, my gallan grooms a’,

Ye’ll mount and back again to London;

Had I known this to be the answer my Meggy’s gein me,

I had stayed some longer at London.’

19‘Go, Jack, my livery boy,’ she says,‘Go ask if he’ll take me wie him;An he shall hae nae cumre o meBut mysel an my waiting-woman.’

‘Go, Jack, my livery boy,’ she says,

‘Go ask if he’ll take me wie him;

An he shall hae nae cumre o me

But mysel an my waiting-woman.’

20‘O the laus o London the’re very severe,They are not for a woman;An ye are too low in coach for to ride,I’m your humble servant, madam.

‘O the laus o London the’re very severe,

They are not for a woman;

An ye are too low in coach for to ride,

I’m your humble servant, madam.

21‘My friends they were a’ angry at meFor marrying ane o the house o Harvey;And ye are too low in coach for to ride,I’m your humble servant, lady.

‘My friends they were a’ angry at me

For marrying ane o the house o Harvey;

And ye are too low in coach for to ride,

I’m your humble servant, lady.

22‘Go saddle for me my steeds,’ he says,‘Go saddle them soon and softly,For I maun awa to the Bogs o the Geich,An speak wi the Marquess o Huntly.’

‘Go saddle for me my steeds,’ he says,

‘Go saddle them soon and softly,

For I maun awa to the Bogs o the Geich,

An speak wi the Marquess o Huntly.’

23The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to London gone,An a’ his gallan gro[o]ms wie him;But his lady fair he’s left behindBoth a sick an a sorry woman.

The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to London gone,

An a’ his gallan gro[o]ms wie him;

But his lady fair he’s left behind

Both a sick an a sorry woman.

24O many were the letters she after him did send,A’ the way back again to London,An in less than a twelvemonth her heart it did break,For the loss o her lord at London.

O many were the letters she after him did send,

A’ the way back again to London,

An in less than a twelvemonth her heart it did break,

For the loss o her lord at London.

25He was not won well to the Bogs o the Geich,Nor his horses scarcely batit,Till the letters and the senes they came to his handThat his lady was newly strickit.

He was not won well to the Bogs o the Geich,

Nor his horses scarcely batit,

Till the letters and the senes they came to his hand

That his lady was newly strickit.

26‘O is she dead? or is she sick?O woe’s me for my coming!I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the GeichOr I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.’

‘O is she dead? or is she sick?

O woe’s me for my coming!

I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the Geich

Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.’

27He took the table wi his foot,Made a’ the room to tremble:‘I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the GeichOr I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.

He took the table wi his foot,

Made a’ the room to tremble:

‘I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the Geich

Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.

28‘Oh an alas! an O woe’s me!An wo to the Marquess o Huntly.Wha causd the Earl o Boyn prove sae very unkinTo a true an a beautifu lady!’

‘Oh an alas! an O woe’s me!

An wo to the Marquess o Huntly.

Wha causd the Earl o Boyn prove sae very unkin

To a true an a beautifu lady!’

29There were fifteen o the bravest gentlemen,An the bravest o the lords o London,They went a’ to attend her burial-day,But the Earl o Boyn could not go wi them.

There were fifteen o the bravest gentlemen,

An the bravest o the lords o London,

They went a’ to attend her burial-day,

But the Earl o Boyn could not go wi them.

Harris MS., fol. 21 b; from the recitation of Mrs Harris.

1‘My maidens fair, yoursels prepare.’2You may weel knaw by her hair, wi the diamonds sae rare,That the Earl of Aboyne was comin.3‘My minstrels all, be at my call,Haud a’ your rooms a ringin,. . . . . . .For the Earl of Aboyne is comin.’4‘Tomorrow soud hae been my bonnie waddin-day,If I had staid in London.’5She turned her aboot wi an angry look,An sic an angry woman!‘Gin tomorrow soud hae been your bonnie waddin-day,Gae back to your miss in Lunnon.’6For mony a day an year that lady lived in care,An doctors wi her dealin,Till just in a crack her very heart did brak,An her letters went on to Lunnon.7There waur four-an-twenty o the noblest lordsThat Lonnon could aford him,A’ clead in black frae the saidle to the hat,To convey the corpse o Peggy Ewan.8‘I’d rather hae lost a’ the lands o AboyneThan lost my pretty Peggy Ewan.’

1‘My maidens fair, yoursels prepare.’

‘My maidens fair, yoursels prepare.’

2You may weel knaw by her hair, wi the diamonds sae rare,That the Earl of Aboyne was comin.

You may weel knaw by her hair, wi the diamonds sae rare,

That the Earl of Aboyne was comin.

3‘My minstrels all, be at my call,Haud a’ your rooms a ringin,. . . . . . .For the Earl of Aboyne is comin.’

‘My minstrels all, be at my call,

Haud a’ your rooms a ringin,

. . . . . . .

For the Earl of Aboyne is comin.’

4‘Tomorrow soud hae been my bonnie waddin-day,If I had staid in London.’

‘Tomorrow soud hae been my bonnie waddin-day,

If I had staid in London.’

5She turned her aboot wi an angry look,An sic an angry woman!‘Gin tomorrow soud hae been your bonnie waddin-day,Gae back to your miss in Lunnon.’

She turned her aboot wi an angry look,

An sic an angry woman!

‘Gin tomorrow soud hae been your bonnie waddin-day,

Gae back to your miss in Lunnon.’

6For mony a day an year that lady lived in care,An doctors wi her dealin,Till just in a crack her very heart did brak,An her letters went on to Lunnon.

For mony a day an year that lady lived in care,

An doctors wi her dealin,

Till just in a crack her very heart did brak,

An her letters went on to Lunnon.

7There waur four-an-twenty o the noblest lordsThat Lonnon could aford him,A’ clead in black frae the saidle to the hat,To convey the corpse o Peggy Ewan.

There waur four-an-twenty o the noblest lords

That Lonnon could aford him,

A’ clead in black frae the saidle to the hat,

To convey the corpse o Peggy Ewan.

8‘I’d rather hae lost a’ the lands o AboyneThan lost my pretty Peggy Ewan.’

‘I’d rather hae lost a’ the lands o Aboyne

Than lost my pretty Peggy Ewan.’

Motherwell’s MS., p. 635; “from the recitation of Margaret Black, wife of Archie Black, sailor in Ayr, a native of Aberdeenshire.”

1The Earl of Aboyne is to London gane,And a’ his nobles with him;He’s left his lady him behin,He’s awa, to remain in Lundon.2She’s called upon her waiting-maidTo busk her in her claithin;Her sark was o cambrick very fine,And her bodice was the red buckskin.3Her stockings were o silk sae fine,And her shoon o the fine cordan;Her coat was o the guid green silk,Turnit up wi a siller warden.4Her goun was also o the silk,Turned up wi a siller warden,And stately tripped she doun the stair,As she saw her gude lord comin.5She gaed thro the close and grippit his horse,Saying, Ye’re welcome hame frae London!‘Gin that be true, come kiss me now,Come kiss me for my coming.6‘For blythe and cantie may ye be,And thank me for my comin,For the morn would hae been my wedding-dayHad I remained in London.’7She turnd her richt and round about,She was a waefu woman:‘Gin the morn would hae been your weddin-day,Gae kiss your whores in London.’8He turned him richt and round about,He was sorry for his comin:‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’,The morn we’ll dine in London.’9She lived a year in meikle wae,And the doctors dealin wi her;At lang and last her heart it brastAnd the letters gade to London.10And when he saw the seals o black,He fell in a deadly weeping;He said, She’s dead whom I loed best,And she had my heart in keeping.11‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’,I’m sorry for our comin;Frae our horse to our hat, we’ll gae in black,And we’ll murn for Peggy Irwine.’12They rade on but stap or stayTill they came to her father’s garden,Whare fifty o the bravest lordsWere convoying Peggy Irwine.

1The Earl of Aboyne is to London gane,And a’ his nobles with him;He’s left his lady him behin,He’s awa, to remain in Lundon.

The Earl of Aboyne is to London gane,

And a’ his nobles with him;

He’s left his lady him behin,

He’s awa, to remain in Lundon.

2She’s called upon her waiting-maidTo busk her in her claithin;Her sark was o cambrick very fine,And her bodice was the red buckskin.

She’s called upon her waiting-maid

To busk her in her claithin;

Her sark was o cambrick very fine,

And her bodice was the red buckskin.

3Her stockings were o silk sae fine,And her shoon o the fine cordan;Her coat was o the guid green silk,Turnit up wi a siller warden.

Her stockings were o silk sae fine,

And her shoon o the fine cordan;

Her coat was o the guid green silk,

Turnit up wi a siller warden.

4Her goun was also o the silk,Turned up wi a siller warden,And stately tripped she doun the stair,As she saw her gude lord comin.

Her goun was also o the silk,

Turned up wi a siller warden,

And stately tripped she doun the stair,

As she saw her gude lord comin.

5She gaed thro the close and grippit his horse,Saying, Ye’re welcome hame frae London!‘Gin that be true, come kiss me now,Come kiss me for my coming.

She gaed thro the close and grippit his horse,

Saying, Ye’re welcome hame frae London!

‘Gin that be true, come kiss me now,

Come kiss me for my coming.

6‘For blythe and cantie may ye be,And thank me for my comin,For the morn would hae been my wedding-dayHad I remained in London.’

‘For blythe and cantie may ye be,

And thank me for my comin,

For the morn would hae been my wedding-day

Had I remained in London.’

7She turnd her richt and round about,She was a waefu woman:‘Gin the morn would hae been your weddin-day,Gae kiss your whores in London.’

She turnd her richt and round about,

She was a waefu woman:

‘Gin the morn would hae been your weddin-day,

Gae kiss your whores in London.’

8He turned him richt and round about,He was sorry for his comin:‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’,The morn we’ll dine in London.’

He turned him richt and round about,

He was sorry for his comin:

‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’,

The morn we’ll dine in London.’

9She lived a year in meikle wae,And the doctors dealin wi her;At lang and last her heart it brastAnd the letters gade to London.

She lived a year in meikle wae,

And the doctors dealin wi her;

At lang and last her heart it brast

And the letters gade to London.

10And when he saw the seals o black,He fell in a deadly weeping;He said, She’s dead whom I loed best,And she had my heart in keeping.

And when he saw the seals o black,

He fell in a deadly weeping;

He said, She’s dead whom I loed best,

And she had my heart in keeping.

11‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’,I’m sorry for our comin;Frae our horse to our hat, we’ll gae in black,And we’ll murn for Peggy Irwine.’

‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’,

I’m sorry for our comin;

Frae our horse to our hat, we’ll gae in black,

And we’ll murn for Peggy Irwine.’

12They rade on but stap or stayTill they came to her father’s garden,Whare fifty o the bravest lordsWere convoying Peggy Irwine.

They rade on but stap or stay

Till they came to her father’s garden,

Whare fifty o the bravest lords

Were convoying Peggy Irwine.

Motherwell’s MS., p. 131.

1The Earl Aboyne to London has gane,And all his nobles with him;For a’ the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,He has left his lady behind him.2She’s called on her little foot-page,And Jean, her gentlewoman;Said, Fill to me a full pint of wine,And I’ll drink it at my lord’s coming.3‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome,’ she says,‘You’re welcome home from London!’‘If I be welcome as you now say,Come kiss me, my bonnie Peggy Irvine.4‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, my lady,’ he says,‘Come kiss me for my coming,For the morn should hae been my wedding-day,Had I staid any longer in London.’5She turned about with an angry look,Said, Woe’s me for your coming!If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,Go back to your whore in London.6He’s called on his little foot-page,Said, Saddle both sure and swiftly,And I’l away to the Bogs o the Gay,And speak wi the Marquis o Huntly.7She has called on her little foot-page,Said, See if he’ll take me with him;And he shall hae nae mair cumber o meBut mysell and my servant-woman.8‘O London streets they are too strait,They are not for a woman,And it is too low to ride in coach wi meWith your humble servant-woman.’9He had not been at the Bogs o the Gay,Nor yet his horse was baited,Till a boy with a letter came to his handThat his lady was lying streekit.10‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he says,‘O woe’s me for my coming!I had rather lost the Bogs o the GayOr I’d lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.11‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he said,‘O woe to the Marquis o Huntly,Gard the Earl of Aboyne prove very unkindTo a good and a dutiful lady!’

1The Earl Aboyne to London has gane,And all his nobles with him;For a’ the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,He has left his lady behind him.

The Earl Aboyne to London has gane,

And all his nobles with him;

For a’ the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,

He has left his lady behind him.

2She’s called on her little foot-page,And Jean, her gentlewoman;Said, Fill to me a full pint of wine,And I’ll drink it at my lord’s coming.

She’s called on her little foot-page,

And Jean, her gentlewoman;

Said, Fill to me a full pint of wine,

And I’ll drink it at my lord’s coming.

3‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome,’ she says,‘You’re welcome home from London!’‘If I be welcome as you now say,Come kiss me, my bonnie Peggy Irvine.

‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome,’ she says,

‘You’re welcome home from London!’

‘If I be welcome as you now say,

Come kiss me, my bonnie Peggy Irvine.

4‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, my lady,’ he says,‘Come kiss me for my coming,For the morn should hae been my wedding-day,Had I staid any longer in London.’

‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, my lady,’ he says,

‘Come kiss me for my coming,

For the morn should hae been my wedding-day,

Had I staid any longer in London.’

5She turned about with an angry look,Said, Woe’s me for your coming!If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,Go back to your whore in London.

She turned about with an angry look,

Said, Woe’s me for your coming!

If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,

Go back to your whore in London.

6He’s called on his little foot-page,Said, Saddle both sure and swiftly,And I’l away to the Bogs o the Gay,And speak wi the Marquis o Huntly.

He’s called on his little foot-page,

Said, Saddle both sure and swiftly,

And I’l away to the Bogs o the Gay,

And speak wi the Marquis o Huntly.

7She has called on her little foot-page,Said, See if he’ll take me with him;And he shall hae nae mair cumber o meBut mysell and my servant-woman.

She has called on her little foot-page,

Said, See if he’ll take me with him;

And he shall hae nae mair cumber o me

But mysell and my servant-woman.

8‘O London streets they are too strait,They are not for a woman,And it is too low to ride in coach wi meWith your humble servant-woman.’

‘O London streets they are too strait,

They are not for a woman,

And it is too low to ride in coach wi me

With your humble servant-woman.’

9He had not been at the Bogs o the Gay,Nor yet his horse was baited,Till a boy with a letter came to his handThat his lady was lying streekit.

He had not been at the Bogs o the Gay,

Nor yet his horse was baited,

Till a boy with a letter came to his hand

That his lady was lying streekit.

10‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he says,‘O woe’s me for my coming!I had rather lost the Bogs o the GayOr I’d lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.

‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he says,

‘O woe’s me for my coming!

I had rather lost the Bogs o the Gay

Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.

11‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he said,‘O woe to the Marquis o Huntly,Gard the Earl of Aboyne prove very unkindTo a good and a dutiful lady!’

‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he said,

‘O woe to the Marquis o Huntly,

Gard the Earl of Aboyne prove very unkind

To a good and a dutiful lady!’

Campbell MSS, II, 105.

1The Earl of Boon’s to London gone,And all his merry men with him;For a’ the ribbonds hang at his horse’s main.He has left his lady behind him.2 He had not been a night in town.Nor a day into the city,Until that the letters they came to him,And the ladies they did invite him.3His lady has lookit oer her left shoulder,To see if she saw him coming,And then she saw her ain good lord,Just newly come from London.4‘Come kiss me, my dear, come kiss me,’ he said,‘Come kiss me for my coming,For if I had staid another day in townTomorrow I would hae been married in Lunnon.’5She turned about wi a very saucy look,As saucy as eer did a woman;Says, If a’ be true that I’ve heard of you,You may go back and kiss your whores in Lunnon.6‘Go call on Jack, my waiting-man,’ he said,‘Go saddle and make him ready;For I maun away to the Bughts o Gight,To speak to the Marquess of Huntly.’7He had not been at the Bughts of the Gight,Nor the horses yet weel bated,Until that the letters came ta himThat his lady was newly streeket.8‘Wae’s me, my dear! wae’s me!’ he said,‘It waes me for my coming;For I wad rather lost a’ the Bughts o the GightOr I had lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.’

1The Earl of Boon’s to London gone,And all his merry men with him;For a’ the ribbonds hang at his horse’s main.He has left his lady behind him.

The Earl of Boon’s to London gone,

And all his merry men with him;

For a’ the ribbonds hang at his horse’s main.

He has left his lady behind him.

2 He had not been a night in town.Nor a day into the city,Until that the letters they came to him,And the ladies they did invite him.

2 He had not been a night in town.

Nor a day into the city,

Until that the letters they came to him,

And the ladies they did invite him.

3His lady has lookit oer her left shoulder,To see if she saw him coming,And then she saw her ain good lord,Just newly come from London.

His lady has lookit oer her left shoulder,

To see if she saw him coming,

And then she saw her ain good lord,

Just newly come from London.

4‘Come kiss me, my dear, come kiss me,’ he said,‘Come kiss me for my coming,For if I had staid another day in townTomorrow I would hae been married in Lunnon.’

‘Come kiss me, my dear, come kiss me,’ he said,

‘Come kiss me for my coming,

For if I had staid another day in town

Tomorrow I would hae been married in Lunnon.’

5She turned about wi a very saucy look,As saucy as eer did a woman;Says, If a’ be true that I’ve heard of you,You may go back and kiss your whores in Lunnon.

She turned about wi a very saucy look,

As saucy as eer did a woman;

Says, If a’ be true that I’ve heard of you,

You may go back and kiss your whores in Lunnon.

6‘Go call on Jack, my waiting-man,’ he said,‘Go saddle and make him ready;For I maun away to the Bughts o Gight,To speak to the Marquess of Huntly.’

‘Go call on Jack, my waiting-man,’ he said,

‘Go saddle and make him ready;

For I maun away to the Bughts o Gight,

To speak to the Marquess of Huntly.’

7He had not been at the Bughts of the Gight,Nor the horses yet weel bated,Until that the letters came ta himThat his lady was newly streeket.

He had not been at the Bughts of the Gight,

Nor the horses yet weel bated,

Until that the letters came ta him

That his lady was newly streeket.

8‘Wae’s me, my dear! wae’s me!’ he said,‘It waes me for my coming;For I wad rather lost a’ the Bughts o the GightOr I had lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.’

‘Wae’s me, my dear! wae’s me!’ he said,

‘It waes me for my coming;

For I wad rather lost a’ the Bughts o the Gight

Or I had lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.’

Motherwell’s MS., p. 128.

1The Earl of Aboyne to London has gone,And all his nobles with him;For all the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,He has left his lady behind him.2She has to her high castle gane,To see if she saw him coming;And who did she spy but her own servant Jack,Coming riding home again from London.3‘What news, what news, my own servant Jack?What news have you got from London?’‘Good news, good news, my lady,’ he says,‘For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’4She has to her kitchen-maid gane:‘Set your pots and your pans all a boiling;Have every thing fine for gentry to dine,For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.5‘Stable-grooms all, pray be well employed,Set your stable-bells all a ringing;Let your hecks be overlaid with the finest of good hay,For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’6She has to her low gates gane,To see if she saw him coming,And long seven miles before they came to townShe heard their bridles ringing.7‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, madam,’ he says,‘Come kiss me for my coming,For the morn should hae been my wedding-dayHad I staid any longer in London.’8She’s turned about with an angry look,Says, Woe’s me for thy coming!If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,Go back and kiss your whores in London.9They’ve turned their horses’ heads around,Their faces all for London;With their hands to their hats they all rode off,And they’re all away to London.

1The Earl of Aboyne to London has gone,And all his nobles with him;For all the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,He has left his lady behind him.

The Earl of Aboyne to London has gone,

And all his nobles with him;

For all the braw ribbands he wore at his hat,

He has left his lady behind him.

2She has to her high castle gane,To see if she saw him coming;And who did she spy but her own servant Jack,Coming riding home again from London.

She has to her high castle gane,

To see if she saw him coming;

And who did she spy but her own servant Jack,

Coming riding home again from London.

3‘What news, what news, my own servant Jack?What news have you got from London?’‘Good news, good news, my lady,’ he says,‘For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’

‘What news, what news, my own servant Jack?

What news have you got from London?’

‘Good news, good news, my lady,’ he says,

‘For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’

4She has to her kitchen-maid gane:‘Set your pots and your pans all a boiling;Have every thing fine for gentry to dine,For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.

She has to her kitchen-maid gane:

‘Set your pots and your pans all a boiling;

Have every thing fine for gentry to dine,

For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.

5‘Stable-grooms all, pray be well employed,Set your stable-bells all a ringing;Let your hecks be overlaid with the finest of good hay,For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’

‘Stable-grooms all, pray be well employed,

Set your stable-bells all a ringing;

Let your hecks be overlaid with the finest of good hay,

For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.’

6She has to her low gates gane,To see if she saw him coming,And long seven miles before they came to townShe heard their bridles ringing.

She has to her low gates gane,

To see if she saw him coming,

And long seven miles before they came to town

She heard their bridles ringing.

7‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, madam,’ he says,‘Come kiss me for my coming,For the morn should hae been my wedding-dayHad I staid any longer in London.’

‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, madam,’ he says,

‘Come kiss me for my coming,

For the morn should hae been my wedding-day

Had I staid any longer in London.’

8She’s turned about with an angry look,Says, Woe’s me for thy coming!If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,Go back and kiss your whores in London.

She’s turned about with an angry look,

Says, Woe’s me for thy coming!

If the morn should hae been your wedding-day,

Go back and kiss your whores in London.

9They’ve turned their horses’ heads around,Their faces all for London;With their hands to their hats they all rode off,And they’re all away to London.

They’ve turned their horses’ heads around,

Their faces all for London;

With their hands to their hats they all rode off,

And they’re all away to London.

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