Findlay MSS, I, 153, from Bell Harris, Muirside of Kinnell, Forfarshire, “once a servant of the family of Carnegie, and now upwards of eighty years of age (1868).”
Findlay MSS, I, 153, from Bell Harris, Muirside of Kinnell, Forfarshire, “once a servant of the family of Carnegie, and now upwards of eighty years of age (1868).”
1They hae made a marriage o’t,An they hae made it sune, OAn they hae made a marrige o’t,It stood at Earlstoon. O2When een was come, an bells were rung,An a’ men boond for bed,The earl and his gay ladieIn ae chamber were laid.3It’s up i the mornin the earl rose,Went to anither room;Up she rose an away she goes,An to Kinnaird she came.4They 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.5He wissd his horse had broken’s neckWhen first he to Kinnaird did come.6There was na ane bade him come inBut John Lindsay him lane.7When 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.8He 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 landI think it were a sin,For ony silly brat like you;Ye couldna tocher win.10‘I may wash my apronAn hing it on the tower,An I may kilt my petticoats,They’re even doon afore.’11But the earl he’s awa to Edinbro,To prove himself a man;The lady she fast followd him,To swear that he was none.12An when they cam to Edinbro,And into the ha,There she saw her ain gude lord,Amang the nobles a’.13He took the tapster-lassAn led her through the room,An twenty times he kissed her mou,Afore his lady’s een.14She took the cocks all frae her headAn dashed them at the wa;‘Awa! awa, Lord Earl!’ she says,‘Awa, Lord Earl, awa!’15But the earl he hae gotten leaveTo choise a maid unto himsel,An he hae choised a country-lass,Cam butter an eggs to sell.16He took the lassie by the handAn 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 disgrateFor a’ my kin an me.’18But 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.19She was three quarters of a yearConfined 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.’21Up spak her sister, Lady Jean,. . . . . .An I could gain sick an estate,I wad gien my husband up to disdain.
1They hae made a marriage o’t,An they hae made it sune, OAn they hae made a marrige o’t,It stood at Earlstoon. O2When een was come, an bells were rung,An a’ men boond for bed,The earl and his gay ladieIn ae chamber were laid.3It’s up i the mornin the earl rose,Went to anither room;Up she rose an away she goes,An to Kinnaird she came.4They 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.5He wissd his horse had broken’s neckWhen first he to Kinnaird did come.6There was na ane bade him come inBut John Lindsay him lane.7When 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.8He 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 landI think it were a sin,For ony silly brat like you;Ye couldna tocher win.10‘I may wash my apronAn hing it on the tower,An I may kilt my petticoats,They’re even doon afore.’11But the earl he’s awa to Edinbro,To prove himself a man;The lady she fast followd him,To swear that he was none.12An when they cam to Edinbro,And into the ha,There she saw her ain gude lord,Amang the nobles a’.13He took the tapster-lassAn led her through the room,An twenty times he kissed her mou,Afore his lady’s een.14She took the cocks all frae her headAn dashed them at the wa;‘Awa! awa, Lord Earl!’ she says,‘Awa, Lord Earl, awa!’15But the earl he hae gotten leaveTo choise a maid unto himsel,An he hae choised a country-lass,Cam butter an eggs to sell.16He took the lassie by the handAn 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 disgrateFor a’ my kin an me.’18But 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.19She was three quarters of a yearConfined 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.’21Up spak her sister, Lady Jean,. . . . . .An I could gain sick an estate,I wad gien my husband up to disdain.
1They hae made a marriage o’t,An they hae made it sune, OAn they hae made a marrige o’t,It stood at Earlstoon. O
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
2When een was come, an bells were rung,An a’ men boond for bed,The earl and his gay ladieIn ae chamber were laid.
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.
3It’s up i the mornin the earl rose,Went to anither room;Up she rose an away she goes,An to Kinnaird she came.
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.
4They 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.
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.
5He wissd his horse had broken’s neckWhen first he to Kinnaird did come.
5
He wissd his horse had broken’s neck
When first he to Kinnaird did come.
6There was na ane bade him come inBut John Lindsay him lane.
6
There was na ane bade him come in
But John Lindsay him lane.
7When 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.
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.
8He said, Tho ye be Kate Carnegie,I am Sir Gilbert Hay;I’ll gar your father sell Kinnaird,Your tocher-gude he maun pay.
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 landI think it were a sin,For ony silly brat like you;Ye couldna tocher win.
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 apronAn hing it on the tower,An I may kilt my petticoats,They’re even doon afore.’
10
‘I may wash my apron
An hing it on the tower,
An I may kilt my petticoats,
They’re even doon afore.’
11But the earl he’s awa to Edinbro,To prove himself a man;The lady she fast followd him,To swear that he was none.
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.
12An when they cam to Edinbro,And into the ha,There she saw her ain gude lord,Amang the nobles a’.
12
An when they cam to Edinbro,
And into the ha,
There she saw her ain gude lord,
Amang the nobles a’.
13He took the tapster-lassAn led her through the room,An twenty times he kissed her mou,Afore his lady’s een.
13
He took the tapster-lass
An led her through the room,
An twenty times he kissed her mou,
Afore his lady’s een.
14She took the cocks all frae her headAn dashed them at the wa;‘Awa! awa, Lord Earl!’ she says,‘Awa, Lord Earl, awa!’
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!’
15But the earl he hae gotten leaveTo choise a maid unto himsel,An he hae choised a country-lass,Cam butter an eggs to sell.
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.
16He took the lassie by the handAn led her through the room:‘I’d gie thee three times three hundred pound,If you’d bear to me a son.’
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 disgrateFor a’ my kin an me.’
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.’
18But 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.
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.
19She was three quarters of a yearConfined to a room,And bonny was the babe she bore,Sir John Hay was his name.
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.’
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.’
21Up spak her sister, Lady Jean,. . . . . .An I could gain sick an estate,I wad gien my husband up to disdain.
21
Up spak her sister, Lady Jean,
. . . . . .
An I could gain sick an estate,
I wad gien my husband up to disdain.
62. John Lindsayis explained to bethe gardener.113. They lady.134.Followed byWi twenty lookin on,perhaps an alternative verse.141. Sheis explained as the tapster-lass.201.Query by Mr Findlay: Lady Jean?
62. John Lindsayis explained to bethe gardener.
113. They lady.
134.Followed byWi twenty lookin on,perhaps an alternative verse.
141. Sheis explained as the tapster-lass.
201.Query by Mr Findlay: Lady Jean?
290.D b.Now collated with a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, and with another copy of the same pieces in “North Country Ballads,” Miscellanea Curiosa, Abbotsford Library.Sharpe, p. 15.Burden1,3. of it.Burden3. you call: of it.4. lies alone O.13. at it grows.22. upon a.24. He’s not.41. It’s sure.63. good witness.73. Said, Had I been the lady of Errol.74. of such.83. And he gave her an.101. lien down.102. And a.121. Take home.122. take.123. cannot please her.Scott.74. O come.124. No can.
290.D b.Now collated with a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe, and with another copy of the same pieces in “North Country Ballads,” Miscellanea Curiosa, Abbotsford Library.
Sharpe, p. 15.Burden1,3. of it.
Burden3. you call: of it.
4. lies alone O.
13. at it grows.
22. upon a.
24. He’s not.
41. It’s sure.
63. good witness.
73. Said, Had I been the lady of Errol.
74. of such.
83. And he gave her an.
101. lien down.
102. And a.
121. Take home.
122. take.
123. cannot please her.
Scott.
74. O come.
124. No can.
P. 292 b, 2d paragraph, first line. Say: L. F., a daughter of John, third Earl.3d paragraph. Say: Lord John Fleming was created Earl of Wigton, Lord Fleming of Biggar and Cumbernauld, by letters patent dated 19th March, 1606. Hunter (2d ed.), p. 547.293.B, as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 21.
P. 292 b, 2d paragraph, first line. Say: L. F., a daughter of John, third Earl.
3d paragraph. Say: Lord John Fleming was created Earl of Wigton, Lord Fleming of Biggar and Cumbernauld, by letters patent dated 19th March, 1606. Hunter (2d ed.), p. 547.
293.B, as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 21.
1Comarnad 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 rentsFor 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.’10As 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.11As she went up the Parliment Closs,We her laised shon so fine,Monny an halled that gay lady,But fue halled Richerd Storry.
1Comarnad 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 rentsFor 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.’10As 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.11As she went up the Parliment Closs,We her laised shon so fine,Monny an halled that gay lady,But fue halled Richerd Storry.
1Comarnad it is a very bonny place,An ther is ladys three, madam,Bat the farest an rarest of them a’Has marred Richerd Storry.
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.
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.’
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.’
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 rentsFor to manten ye on, lady.’
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.
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.]’
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?’
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.’
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.’
10As 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.
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.
11As she went up the Parliment Closs,We her laised shon so fine,Monny an halled that gay lady,But fue halled Richerd Storry.
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.
The first, second, and fourth verse, perhaps, certainly the second and fourth, should have the trochaic ending which we find in stanzas 2, 5. It may have been supplied ad libitum.296.F a.Preserved in a small MS. volume with the title “Songs” on the cover, entirely in Sharpe’s handwriting, p. 27.297.I.A stanza from the authority of Nannie Blake, an old servant at Peebles: Robert Chambers, in Sharpe’s Ballad Book, 1880, p. 131.‘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.’
The first, second, and fourth verse, perhaps, certainly the second and fourth, should have the trochaic ending which we find in stanzas 2, 5. It may have been supplied ad libitum.
296.F a.Preserved in a small MS. volume with the title “Songs” on the cover, entirely in Sharpe’s handwriting, p. 27.
297.I.A stanza from the authority of Nannie Blake, an old servant at Peebles: Robert Chambers, in Sharpe’s Ballad Book, 1880, p. 131.
‘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.’
‘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.’
‘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.’
‘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.’
P. 314.C.Here given as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 8.
P. 314.C.Here given as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 8.
1The 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.2First 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.’6She 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-dayGif I had stayed att London.’8She 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.’10She did her to his servant-man,I wat they caed him Peater Gordon:‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will late meWe 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.’12She 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!’13She 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.14He gae the table we his foot,An caped it we his knee,Gared silver cup an easer dishIn flinders flie.15. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .‘I rader I had lost a’ the lans of AboyneOr I had lost bonny Margrat Irven.’16He 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 AboynOr I had lost bonny Marg[ra]t Irvien!’
1The 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.2First 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.’6She 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-dayGif I had stayed att London.’8She 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.’10She did her to his servant-man,I wat they caed him Peater Gordon:‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will late meWe 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.’12She 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!’13She 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.14He gae the table we his foot,An caped it we his knee,Gared silver cup an easer dishIn flinders flie.15. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .‘I rader I had lost a’ the lans of AboyneOr I had lost bonny Margrat Irven.’16He 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 AboynOr I had lost bonny Marg[ra]t Irvien!’
1The 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.
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.
2First 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.
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.
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.
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.’
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.’
6She did her to the closs to take him from his hors,An she welcomed him fra London:. . . . . . . . .‘Yer welcome, my gued lord, fra London!’
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-dayGif I had stayed att 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.’
8She 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.’
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.’
9
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
‘So I shall, madam, an ye’s ha na mare to say,
For I ill dine we the markes of Huntly.’
10She did her to his servant-man,I wat they caed him Peater Gordon:‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will late meWe him a singel mille to ride [to London].’
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.’
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.’
12She 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!’
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!’
13She 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.
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.
14He gae the table we his foot,An caped it we his knee,Gared silver cup an easer dishIn flinders flie.
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 AboyneOr I had lost bonny Margrat Irven.’
15
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
‘I rader I had lost a’ the lans of Aboyne
Or I had lost bonny Margrat Irven.’
16He 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!
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!
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 AboynOr I had lost bonny Marg[ra]t Irvien!’
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!’
11. carliss:perhapscourtis.82. pritty:doubtful.
11. carliss:perhapscourtis.
82. pritty:doubtful.
318-20. Copies ofG,I,J, were sent by Motherwell to C. K. Sharpe, in a letter dated December 6, 1824. In all the transcripts there are some slight changes of the MS. text, such as Motherwell was quite in the way of making. ToIhe added the following lines, which are found substantially inJ. They may have been subsequently recollected by the reciter ofI.
318-20. Copies ofG,I,J, were sent by Motherwell to C. K. Sharpe, in a letter dated December 6, 1824. In all the transcripts there are some slight changes of the MS. text, such as Motherwell was quite in the way of making. ToIhe added the following lines, which are found substantially inJ. They may have been subsequently recollected by the reciter ofI.
10She 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.’11Word has to new London gane,To the tavern where he was dining;He gave such a rap on the table where he satMade all the house to wonder.12. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .‘I would rather hae lost a’ the lands o AboyneOr I’d lost my Peggy Irvine!’
10She 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.’11Word has to new London gane,To the tavern where he was dining;He gave such a rap on the table where he satMade all the house to wonder.12. . . . . . . .. . . . . . . .‘I would rather hae lost a’ the lands o AboyneOr I’d lost my Peggy Irvine!’
10She 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.’
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.’
11Word has to new London gane,To the tavern where he was dining;He gave such a rap on the table where he satMade all the house to wonder.
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 AboyneOr I’d lost my Peggy Irvine!’
12
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
‘I would rather hae lost a’ the lands o Aboyne
Or I’d lost my Peggy Irvine!’
111.Motherwell suggests: Word has now to.321. Findlay MSS, I, 120. ‘The Yerle o Aboyne,’ from Mrs Main, Inchmarlo, Kincardineshire.
111.Motherwell suggests: Word has now to.
321. Findlay MSS, I, 120. ‘The Yerle o Aboyne,’ from Mrs Main, Inchmarlo, Kincardineshire.
1The 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.’3She 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 maidGin I’d staid langer in Lunon.’5She 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.’6Haem she gaed frae . . . .. . . . . . .But wi a crack her heart did brak,. . . . . . .7Fifty letters seald wi black,An they are on to Lunon,An when he lookd the letters uponHe says, O wae’s me for my pairtin!* * * * * *8When he cam to bonny AboyneHe thocht that she was sleepin,But when he drew the sma curtain byThen 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 AboyneOr I’d pairted wi Peggie Irvine.* * * * * *10‘A’ my friends did me disdainFor marryin the name o Irvine.’
1The 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.’3She 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 maidGin I’d staid langer in Lunon.’5She 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.’6Haem she gaed frae . . . .. . . . . . .But wi a crack her heart did brak,. . . . . . .7Fifty letters seald wi black,An they are on to Lunon,An when he lookd the letters uponHe says, O wae’s me for my pairtin!* * * * * *8When he cam to bonny AboyneHe thocht that she was sleepin,But when he drew the sma curtain byThen 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 AboyneOr I’d pairted wi Peggie Irvine.* * * * * *10‘A’ my friends did me disdainFor marryin the name o Irvine.’
1The 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.
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.’
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.’
3She 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.’
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 maidGin I’d staid langer in 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.’
5She 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.’
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.’
6Haem she gaed frae . . . .. . . . . . .But wi a crack her heart did brak,. . . . . . .
6
Haem she gaed frae . . . .
. . . . . . .
But wi a crack her heart did brak,
. . . . . . .
7Fifty letters seald wi black,An they are on to Lunon,An when he lookd the letters uponHe says, O wae’s me for my pairtin!
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!
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
8When he cam to bonny AboyneHe thocht that she was sleepin,But when he drew the sma curtain byThen he fell oot a weepin.
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 AboyneOr I’d pairted wi Peggie Irvine.
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 disdainFor marryin the name o Irvine.’
10
‘A’ my friends did me disdain
For marryin the name o Irvine.’
The first stanza is also given thus (p. 121):
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.
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.
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.
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.
From Miss Butchart, Arbroath, p. 146.
1The Earl o Aboyne’s to London gane,An taen Duke Huntly wi him,* * * * * *2She 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.’* * * * * *3She’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-dayGae kiss your dames in Lunon.’
1The Earl o Aboyne’s to London gane,An taen Duke Huntly wi him,* * * * * *2She 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.’* * * * * *3She’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-dayGae kiss your dames in Lunon.’
1The Earl o Aboyne’s to London gane,An taen Duke Huntly wi him,
1
The Earl o Aboyne’s to London gane,
An taen Duke Huntly wi him,
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
2She 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.’
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.’
* * * * * *
* * * * * *
3She’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.
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-dayGae kiss your dames in 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.’
P. 324.B, as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 16, ‘The Lard of Drum.’
P. 324.B, as it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 16, ‘The Lard of Drum.’
1Ther 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 fancyTill 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 haaTo 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 haTo see you gae out nor in.6‘. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .For I widne gee the fancey of my bonny loveFor 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 fancyYe cane nether gang nor rid,Ye take me to the middel of the ring,An bear me guid comp[a]ny.’13He has tane her by the milk-whit handAn led her thro hase an bours:‘Ye’r the jule of my heart,An a’ I have is yours.’14He tuke her by the milk-whit handAn led her out an in:‘Ye’r the jule of my heart,My d[ea]r, ye’r welcom in.’15Out spak his brother John,‘Brother, ye haa don grate wrong;Ye ha marred a wife this nightDiscredet 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.’
1Ther 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 fancyTill 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 haaTo 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 haTo see you gae out nor in.6‘. . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . .For I widne gee the fancey of my bonny loveFor 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 fancyYe cane nether gang nor rid,Ye take me to the middel of the ring,An bear me guid comp[a]ny.’13He has tane her by the milk-whit handAn led her thro hase an bours:‘Ye’r the jule of my heart,An a’ I have is yours.’14He tuke her by the milk-whit handAn led her out an in:‘Ye’r the jule of my heart,My d[ea]r, ye’r welcom in.’15Out spak his brother John,‘Brother, ye haa don grate wrong;Ye ha marred a wife this nightDiscredet 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.’
1Ther was a knigh[t],An a gillan knight was he,An he’s faein in love we his shiperd’s daughter,. . . . . . .
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 fancyTill his nose began to blead.
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.
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 haaTo see you gaa out an in, may.’
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 haTo see you gae out nor in.
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 loveFor ne love nor favour of you, sir.’
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.’
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.
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.’
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.
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.’
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 fancyYe cane nether gang nor rid,Ye take me to the middel of the ring,An bear me guid comp[a]ny.’
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.’
13He has tane her by the milk-whit handAn led her thro hase an bours:‘Ye’r the jule of my heart,An a’ I have is yours.’
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.’
14He tuke her by the milk-whit handAn led her out an in:‘Ye’r the jule of my heart,My d[ea]r, ye’r welcom in.’
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.’
15Out spak his brother John,‘Brother, ye haa don grate wrong;Ye ha marred a wife this nightDiscredet to all yer kin.’
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.’
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.’
May, 44, 114, sir, 64,are added for singing asOis in other copies, and either one of these, orO,would naturally be appended in the other stanzas.81. Lay not fancyour love on me.The next line shows that fane was written by mistake.
May, 44, 114, sir, 64,are added for singing asOis in other copies, and either one of these, orO,would naturally be appended in the other stanzas.
81. Lay not fancyour love on me.The next line shows that fane was written by mistake.
325. Findlay’s MS., p. 13, has five stanzas of the ballad, from the recitation of a woman in Kincardineshire. The five stanzas are very nearly the same asD1, 2, 4, 5, 61,2, with the matter-of-fact conclusion, 63,4,
An a’body seemed to be content,And she was at his will.
An a’body seemed to be content,And she was at his will.
An a’body seemed to be content,And she was at his will.
An a’body seemed to be content,
And she was at his will.
A stanza from another version is given at the same place which resemblesE8:
She canna wash your china cups,Nor dress you a dish o tea, OBut weel can she milk baith cow and ewe,Wi her cogie at her knee. O
She canna wash your china cups,Nor dress you a dish o tea, OBut weel can she milk baith cow and ewe,Wi her cogie at her knee. O
She canna wash your china cups,Nor dress you a dish o tea, OBut weel can she milk baith cow and ewe,Wi her cogie at her knee. O
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
I have received nearly the same from Mr Walker of Aberdeen as sung by John Walker, crofter, Portlethen, 1893.
Yer china cups I canna wash,Nor cook a cup o tea, OBut weel can I milk the cowes and the ewes,Wi the cogie on my knee. O
Yer china cups I canna wash,Nor cook a cup o tea, OBut weel can I milk the cowes and the ewes,Wi the cogie on my knee. O
Yer china cups I canna wash,Nor cook a cup o tea, OBut weel can I milk the cowes and the ewes,Wi the cogie on my 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
P. 332. There is a copy in a collection of folio sheet ballads, British Museum, 1346. m. 8, with the date September 8th, 1775, at the end; earlier, therefore, than any of those I had before me excepting a, and worth collating.
P. 332. There is a copy in a collection of folio sheet ballads, British Museum, 1346. m. 8, with the date September 8th, 1775, at the end; earlier, therefore, than any of those I had before me excepting a, and worth collating.
14. theywanting.24, 34. she did.32. thewanting.33. Jean’s fallen in.44. mony.53. withwanting.54. Jeanny.64. she’s no.73. Lady Jean’s fallen in love with.74. she would.82. upon yon.83. he did.84. a training of.91. O woe be.92. Andwanting: death shall you.94. shalt thou.101. Duke of.104. he did such a thing.113. him put off his gold lace.114. thewanting.134. will I.142. a yer but only three.143. babe on.151. O I’m weary with.16comes before15.161. O I am weary wandering.162. think it lang.173. sheen: allwanting.174. she could.18, 19,wanting.201. I was: glen of Foudland.204. either house or sheen.211. When they: to bonny C. G.213. outwanting.221. Owanting: dear Jeannie G.222. welcome dear.224. Captainwanting.231. over the.232. Aswanting.241. ye.251. what means this.253. are all dead.262. drink, be jovial.273. out withwanting.281. prettywanting.283. can enter my.30-32wanting.332. you’re welcome dear to me.333. You’re welcome, bonny Jeanny Gordon.334. With my young family.
14. theywanting.
24, 34. she did.
32. thewanting.
33. Jean’s fallen in.
44. mony.
53. withwanting.
54. Jeanny.
64. she’s no.
73. Lady Jean’s fallen in love with.
74. she would.
82. upon yon.
83. he did.
84. a training of.
91. O woe be.
92. Andwanting: death shall you.
94. shalt thou.
101. Duke of.
104. he did such a thing.
113. him put off his gold lace.
114. thewanting.
134. will I.
142. a yer but only three.
143. babe on.
151. O I’m weary with.
16comes before15.
161. O I am weary wandering.
162. think it lang.
173. sheen: allwanting.
174. she could.
18, 19,wanting.
201. I was: glen of Foudland.
204. either house or sheen.
211. When they: to bonny C. G.
213. outwanting.
221. Owanting: dear Jeannie G.
222. welcome dear.
224. Captainwanting.
231. over the.
232. Aswanting.
241. ye.
251. what means this.
253. are all dead.
262. drink, be jovial.
273. out withwanting.
281. prettywanting.
283. can enter my.
30-32wanting.
332. you’re welcome dear to me.
333. You’re welcome, bonny Jeanny Gordon.
334. With my young family.
P. 346.I b.A copy of this version has been found at Abbotsford, in a portfolio labelled ‘The Rever’s Wedding and other important papers.’ There are a few differences of reading.
In the stanza after 1, line 3, be richer,line 4, maun hae.21. Oh whare.22,4. gang: again soon.31. he cam: gae.32. gae.33. my maister’s.34. stop till.51. Gae: gar.53. lang or ere.54. Owanting.63. quo she.72. Butwanting.
In the stanza after 1, line 3, be richer,line 4, maun hae.
21. Oh whare.
22,4. gang: again soon.
31. he cam: gae.
32. gae.
33. my maister’s.
34. stop till.
51. Gae: gar.
53. lang or ere.
54. Owanting.
63. quo she.
72. Butwanting.
P. 349.A b.Now collated with a MS. of Charles Kirkpatrick Sharpe’s and another copy of the same pieces in “North Country Ballads,” Miscellanea Curiosa, Abbotsford Library. Stanzas mostly of four lines.
Sharpe, p. 10.11. stepping on.12. ye’re.21. caren.22. Achanachie (and always).31. not take; itwanting.32. and he’s thrawn.41. I’m bown: you.42. not.52. outwanting: and they cutit.71. came.81. fleed.82. Jeanie is.
Sharpe, p. 10.
11. stepping on.
12. ye’re.
21. caren.
22. Achanachie (and always).
31. not take; itwanting.
32. and he’s thrawn.
41. I’m bown: you.
42. not.
52. outwanting: and they cutit.
71. came.
81. fleed.
82. Jeanie is.
350.B c.From “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 29. We have here Gordon of Auchanachie, though the scene is in Buchan.
1Buchan 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.2Ben 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.’5Her 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.’11Achanicy 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.12Doun 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.
1Buchan 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.2Ben 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.’5Her 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.’11Achanicy 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.12Doun 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.
1Buchan 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.
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.
2Ben 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.
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.’
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.’
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.’
5Her 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.
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.’
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.’
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.’
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.
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.’
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.’
11Achanicy 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.
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.
12Doun 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!’
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.
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.
13. came.53. she deaded.122. strying.124. ondoubtful.
13. came.
53. she deaded.
122. strying.
124. ondoubtful.
P. 352.Bas it stands in “The Old Lady’s Collection,” No 3, ‘The Rantan Laddy.’
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 GlentanerWe 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 GlentanerWe 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.’6Fan 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.7Fan he looked the letter on,Saa loud as he was laughing;Bat or he read it to an endThe 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.’11Ye 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.12The’r frank an kinThe’r free,An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds,Ye’ll happy be.
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 GlentanerWe 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 GlentanerWe 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.’6Fan 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.7Fan he looked the letter on,Saa loud as he was laughing;Bat or he read it to an endThe 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.’11Ye 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.12The’r frank an kinThe’r free,An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds,Ye’ll happy be.
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.
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.
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 GlentanerWe a letter to the ranten laddy!’
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 GlentanerWe 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.’
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.’
6Fan 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.
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.
7Fan he looked the letter on,Saa loud as he was laughing;Bat or he read it to an endThe tears they came doun raping.
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?. . . . . . .. . . . . . .
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.
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.’
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.’
11Ye 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.
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.
12The’r frank an kinThe’r free,An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds,Ye’ll happy be.
12
The’r frank an kin
The’r free,
An ye match we ony of our Deesid ladds,
Ye’ll happy be.