Appendix
Aytoun, II, 239, says of ‘Richie Storie,’ The words, recast in a romantic form and applied to a more interesting subject, have been set to music by a noble lady, and are now very popular under the title of ‘Huntingtower.’ The history of ‘Huntingtower’ is not so well known as might be expected. I have not been able to ascertain the authorship or the date of its first appearance (which was very probably in society rather than in print). ‘Richie Storie’ is not carried by our texts further back than 1802–3 (#B#, #H#). Kinloch published in 1827 a ballad from recitation, ‘The Duke of Athol,’ which is ‘Huntingtower’ passed through the popular mouth; for ‘Huntingtower’ became, and has continued to be, a favorite with the people. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 166, says that he had often heard ‘The Duke of Athol’ in his early years, and he gives eight stanzas which do not differ remarkably from Kinloch’s ballad.
The marks of the derivation of ‘Huntingtower’ are the terminations of lines 1, 2, 4 of each stanza, and substantial agreements in the last two stanzas with #A#, #B#, #E#, 5, #D#, #F#, #G#, 4, and with #B# 6, #C# 7, #H#, respectively. The name Huntingtower occurs only in #B# 6 of ‘Richie Storie.’ The author of ‘Huntingtower’ was no doubt possessed of a version of ‘Richie Storie’ which had its own peculiarities.
‘Huntingtower’ is too well known to require citing. It has been often printed; as, for example, in Mr G. F. Graham’s Popular Songs of Scotland, revised by J. Muir Wood, Balmoral Edition, Glasgow, 1887, p. 152; The Songs of Scotland, the words revised by Dr Charles Mackay, p. 5, London, Boosey & Co. (Altered by the Baroness Nairne, and very little left of it, Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne, edited by the Rev. Charles Rogers, 1872, p. 177.) The pleasing air strongly resembles, says Mr Wood, one in D’Urfey’s Pills to Purge Melancholy, V, 42, ed. 1719.
‘The Duke of Athol’ may be given for the interest it has as a popular rifacimento.
THE DUKE OF ATHOL
“Taken down from the recitation of an idiot boy in Wishaw;” Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 170.
1 ‘I am gaing awa, Jeanie, I am gaing awa; I am gaing ayont the saut seas, I’m gaing sae far awa.’
2 ‘What will ye buy to me, Jamie? What will ye buy to me?’ ‘I’ll buy to you a silken plaid, And send it wi vanitie.’
3 ‘That’s na love at a’, Jamie, That’s na love at a’; All I want is love for love, And that’s the best ava.
4 ‘Whan will ye marry me, Jamie? Whan will ye marry me? Will ye tak me to your countrie, Or will ye marry me?’
5 ‘How can I marry thee, Jeanie? How can I marry thee, Whan I’ve a wife and bairns three? Twa wad na weill agree.’
6 ‘Wae be to your fause tongue, Jamie, Wae be to your fause tongue; Ye promised for to marry me, And has a wife at hame!
7 ‘But if your wife wad dee, Jamie, And sae your bairns three, Wad ye tak me to your countrie, Or wad ye marry me?
8 ‘But sin they’re all alive, Jamie, But sin they’re all alive, We’ll tak a glass in ilka hand, And drink, Weill may they thrive!’
9 ‘If my wife wad dee, Jeanie, And sae my bairns three, I wad tak ye to my ain countrie, And married we wad be.’
10 ‘O an your head war sair, Jamie, O an your head war sair, I’d tak the napkin frae my neck And tie doun your yellow hair.’
11 ‘I hae na wife at a’, Jeanie, I hae na wife at a’; I hae neither wife nor bairns three; I said it to try thee.’
12 ‘Licht are ye to loup, Jamie, Licht are ye to loup; Licht are ye to loup the dyke, Whan I maun wale a slap.’
13 ‘Licht am I to loup, Jeanie, Licht am I to loup; But the hiest dyke that we come to I’ll turn and tak you up.
14 ‘Blair in Athol is mine, Jeanie, Blair in Athol is mine; Bonnie Dunkel is whare I dwell, And the boats o Garry’s mine.
15 ‘Huntingtower is mine, Jeanie, Huntingtower is mine, Huntingtower, and bonnie Belford, And a’ Balquhither’s mine.’
233
ANDREW LAMMIE
#A.# ‘The Trumpeter of Fyvie,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 126, 1806.
#B#. ‘Tifty’s Nanny,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 382, from a stall-copy.
#C. a.# ‘Andrew Lammie,’ Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 98, 1825 ; Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 55, 1823. #b.# Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 239.
Jamieson, in his preface, 1806, says that this ballad was current in the Border counties within a few years, and that #A# was taken down by Leyden from the recitation of a young lady who learned it in Teviotdale. Writing to Scott, in November, 1804, of such ballads as he had already prepared for the press, he says, “Trumpeter of Fyvie, from tradition, furnished by Mr Leyden, and collated with a stall-copy” (probably #B#): Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, Abbotsford, I, No. 117.
Buchan, in the notes to his Gleanings, 1825, p. 197, says of #C a#: “This is one of the greatest favorites of the people in Aberdeenshire that I know. I took it first down from the memory of a very old woman, and afterwards published thirty thousand copies of it. There are two versions, an old and a new; but, although I have both, I prefer this one, the younger of the two, having been composed and acted in the year 1674.” Laing, who reprints #A# in his Thistle of Scotland, p. 63, calls that the “old way of Andrew Lammie.” Motherwell, 1827, reprints “a stall-copy published at Glasgow several years ago, collated with a recited copy which has furnished one or two verbal improvements:” #C b#. There are a great many variations from #C a#, of which precisely one or two are verbal improvements. But Motherwell also gives six stanzas which are not in #a#. His copy is repeated in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, and there the editor says that in a chap-book printed by J. and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, Glasgow, 1808, “Andrew Lammie is given with only a few slight verbal differences between it and the copy here printed.” Such stall-copies as I have seen are late, and are reprints of #C a# or of #C b#. Motherwell assures us that the ballad as he has given it “agrees with any recited copy which the Editor has hitherto met with in the West Country.”
A professed edition, “most carefully collated with all previous editions,” was published at Peterhead, 1872: “Mill o Tifty’s Annie, A Buchan Ballad, with Introduction,” etc. This is attributed to the Rev. Dr John Muir of Aberdeen. ‘Mill o Tiftie’s Annie’ in Christie, I, 48 “is epitomized from traditional copies;” that is to say, it is taken from Motherwell, with a trifling change here and there. A copy given in Smith’s New History of Aberdeenshire is compounded of #A#, #B#, and a couple of lines from #C b#.
Annie, daughter to a well-to-do miller, loses her heart to a handsome trumpeter in the service of Lord Fyvie. Her father will not hear of such a match. (Annie has five thousand marks, and the man not a penny, #A# 11.) The trumpeter is obliged to go to Edinburgh for a time, and Annie appoints him a tryst at a bridge. He will buy her her wedding-gear while he is away, and marry her when he comes back. Annie knows that she shall be dead ere he returns, and bids him an everlasting adieu.[130] The trumpeter goes to the top of the castle and blows a blast which is heard at his love’s house. Her father beats her, her mother beats her; her brother beats her and breaks her back. Lord Fyvie is passing on one of these occasions, comes in, and urges Mill of Tiftie to yield to his daughter’s inclinations. The father is immovable; she must marry higher than with a trumpeter. Annie is put to bed, with her face towards Fyvie, and dies of a broken heart and of the cruel treatment which she has undergone.
This is a homely ditty,[131] but the gentleness and fidelity of Annie under the brutal behavior of her family are genuinely pathetic, and justify the remarkable popularity which the ballad has enjoyed in the north of Scotland. In those parts the story has been played as well as sung. “The ballad used in former times to be presented in a dramatic shape at rustic meetings in Aberdeenshire,” says Chambers (Scottish Ballads, p. 143); perhaps misinterpreting and expanding the enunciation made by Buchan and in the title of some stall-copies that “this tragedy was acted in the year 1674,” which may rather refer to the date of the story. But however it may have been in former times, two rival companies in Aberdeenshire were performing plays founded on the ballad in 1887–8.[132]
“Bonny Andrew Lammie” was a well-known personage at the beginning of the last century, for, as Jamieson has pointed out, he is mentioned in a way that implies this by Allan Ramsay, in the second of his two cantos in continuation of Christ’s Kirk on the Green, written, as Ramsay says, in 1718. (Poems, London, 1731, I, 76, v. 70.)
Mill of Tiftie is, or was, a farm-house on the side of a glen about half a mile northeast of the castle of Fyvie, and in view of its turrets (on one of which there now stands a figure of the Trumpeter sounding towards Tiftie). The mill proper, now a ruin, was in the bottom of the glen, and gave its name to the house. The bridge of Sleugh, otherwise Skeugh, etc., was in the hollow between Tiftie and the castle.[133]
Annie was Agnes Smith, Nannie being among her people an affectionate form for Agnes. There is reason to believe that she may have been daughter of a William Smith who is known to have been a brother or near kinsman of the laird of Inveramsay, a person of some local consequence.[134] An inscription on her gravestone makes Agnes Smith to have died January 19, 1673.[135]
“Some years subsequent to the melancholy fate of poor Tifty’s Nanny,” says Jamieson, II, 387, citing the current tradition of Fyvie, “her sad story being mentioned and the ballad sung in a company in Edinburgh when [Andrew Lammie] was present, he remained silent and motionless, till he was discovered by a groan suddenly bursting from him and several of the buttons flying from his waistcoat.” The peasants of Fyvie, Jamieson continues, “borrowed this striking characteristic of excessive grief” neither from the Laocoön group nor from Shakspere’s King Lear, but from nature. The anecdote, and the comment too, is apt to be repeated by editors of ‘Andrew Lammie.’ That “affecting image of overpowering grief,” as Chambers calls it, the flying off of the buttons (or the bursting of a waistcoat), we have had several times already, though in no ballad (or version) of much note: see II, 118, #D# 17, 186, #C# 15, 308, 4; IV, 101, I 15, 185, 11. It must be owned to be a stroke that does not well bear iteration. Mrs. Littlewit in ‘Bartholomew Fair’ has a tedious life with her Puritan, she says: “he breaks his buttons and cracks seams at every saying he sobs out.” Ben Jonson has taken out one of the best things in our tragedy and put it into his comedy.
The air to which this ballad was usually sung, Jamieson informs us, was “of that class which in Teviotdale they term a northern drawl; and a Perthshire set of it, but two notes lower than it is commonly sung, is to be found in Johnson’s Scots Musical Museum [No. 175, p. 183], to the song ‘How long and dreary is the night.’”
#C b# is translated by Wolff, Hausschatz, p. 199, Halle der Völker, I, 65.
* * * * *
A
Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 126; “taken down by Dr Leyden from the recitation of a young lady, Miss Robson, of Edinburgh, who learned it in Teviotdale.”
1 ‘At Fyvie’s yetts there grows a flower, It grows baith braid and bonny; There’s a daisie in the midst o it, And it’s ca’d by Andrew Lammie.
2 ‘O gin that flower war in my breast, For the love I bear the laddie! I wad kiss it, and I wad clap it, And daut it for Andrew Lammie.
3 ‘The first time me and my love met Was in the woods of Fyvie; He kissed my lips five thousand times, And ay he ca’d me bonny, And a’ the answer he gat frae me, Was, My bonny Andrew Lammie!’
4 ‘Love, I maun gang to Edinburgh; Love, I maun gang and leave thee!’ ‘I sighed right sair, and said nae mair But, O gin I were wi ye!’
5 ‘But true and trusty will I be, As I am Andrew Lammie; I’ll never kiss a woman’s mouth Till I come back and see thee.’
6 ‘And true and trusty will I be, As I am Tiftie’s Annie; I’ll never kiss a man again Till ye come back and see me.’
7 Syne he’s come back frae Edinburgh To the bonny hows o Fyvie, And ay his face to the nor-east, To look for Tiftie’s Annie.
8 ‘I hae a love in Edinburgh, Sae hae I intill Leith, man; I hae a love intill Montrose, Sae hae I in Dalkeith, man.
9 ‘And east and west, whereer I go, My love she’s always wi me; For east and west, whereer I go, My love she dwells in Fyvie.
10 ‘My love possesses a’ my heart, Nae pen can eer indite her; She’s ay sae stately as she goes That I see nae mae like her.
11 ‘But Tiftie winna gie consent His dochter me to marry, Because she has five thousand marks, And I have not a penny.
12 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away, Love, love decays the body; For love o thee, oh I must die; Adieu, my bonny Annie!’
13 Her mither raise out o her bed, And ca’d on baith her women: ‘What ails ye, Annie, my dochter dear? O Annie, was ye dreamin?
14 ‘What dule disturbd my dochter’s sleep? O tell to me, my Annie!’ She sighed right sair, and said nae mair But, O for Andrew Lammie!
15 Her father beat her cruellie, Sae also did her mother; Her sisters sair did scoff at her; But wae betide her brother!
16 Her brother beat her cruellie, Till his straiks they werena canny; He brak her back, and he beat her sides, For the sake o Andrew Lammie.
17 ‘O fie, O fie, my brother dear! The gentlemen’ll shame ye; The Laird o Fyvie he’s gaun by, And he’ll come in and see me.
18 ‘And he’ll kiss me, and he’ll clap me, And he will speer what ails me; And I will answer him again, It’s a’ for Andrew Lammie.’
19 Her sisters they stood in the door, Sair grievd her wi their folly: ‘O sister dear, come to the door, Your cow is lowin on you.’
20 ‘O fie, O fie, my sister dear! Grieve me not wi your folly; I’d rather hear the trumpet sound Than a’ the kye o Fyvie.
21 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away, Love, love decays the body; For love o thee now I maun die; Adieu to Andrew Lammie!’
22 But Tiftie’s wrote a braid letter, And sent it into Fyvie, Saying his daughter was bewitchd By bonny Andrew Lammie.
23 ‘Now, Tiftie, ye maun gie consent, And lat the lassie marry;’ ‘I’ll never, never gie consent To the trumpeter of Fyvie.’
24 When Fyvie looked the letter on, He was baith sad and sorry: Says, The bonniest lass o the country-side Has died for Andrew Lammie.
25 O Andrew’s gane to the house-top O the bonny house o Fyvie, He’s blawn his horn baith loud and shill Oer the lawland leas o Fyvie.
26 ‘Mony a time hae I walkd a’ night, And never yet was weary; But now I may walk wae my lane, For I’ll never see my deary.
27 ‘Love pines away, love dwines away, Love, love decays the body; For the love o thee now I maun die; I come, my bonny Annie!’
* * * * *
B
Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 382; “from a stall copy, procured from Scotland.”
1 ‘There springs a rose in Fyvie’s yard, And O but it springs bonny! There’s a daisy in the middle of it, Its name is Andrew Lammie.
2 ‘I wish the rose were in my breast, For the love I bear the daisy; So blyth and merry as I would be, And kiss my Andrew Lammie.
3 ‘The first time I and my love met Was in the wood of Fyvie; He kissëd and he dawted me, Calld me his bonny Annie.
4 ‘Wi apples sweet he did me treat, Which stole my heart so canny, And ay sinsyne himself was kind, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
5 ‘But I am going to Edinburgh, My love, I’m going to leave thee;’ She sighd full sore, and said no more, ‘I wish I were but wi you.’
6 ‘I will buy thee a wedding-gown, My love, I’ll buy it bonny;’ ‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
7 ‘I will buy you brave bridal shoes, My love, I’ll buy them bonny;’ ‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
8 ‘If you’ll be true and trusty too, As I am Andrew Lammie, That you will neer kiss lad nor lown Till I return to Fyvie.’
9 ‘I shall be true and trusty too, As my name’s Tifty’s Nanny, That I’ll kiss neither lad nor lown Till you return to Fyvie.’—
10 ‘Love pines awa, love dwines awa, Love pines awa my body; And love’s crept in at my bed-foot, And taen possession o me.
11 ‘My father drags me by the hair, My mother sore does scold me; And they would give one hundred merks To any one to wed me.
12 ‘My sister stands at her bower-door, And she full sore does mock me, And when she hears the trumpet sound,— “Your cow is lowing, Nanny!”
13 ‘O be still, my sister Jane, And leave off all your folly; For I’d rather hear that cow low Than all the kye in Fyvie.
14 ‘My father locks the door at night, Lays up the keys fu canny, And when he hears the trumpet sound,— “Your cow is lowing, Nanny!”
15 ‘O hold your tongue, my father dear, And let be a’ your folly; For I would rather hear that cow Than all the kye in Fyvie.’
* * * * * *
16 ‘If you ding me, I will greet, And gentlemen will hear me; Laird Fyvie will be coming by, And he’ll come in and see me.’
17 ‘Yea, I will ding you though ye greet And gentlemen should hear you; Though Laird Fyvie were coming by, And did come in and see you.’
18 So they dang her, and she grat, And gentlemen did hear her, And Fyvie he was coming by, And did come in to see her.
19 ‘Mill of Tifty, give consent, And let your daughter marry; If she were full of as high blood As she is full of beauty, I would take her to myself, And make her my own lady.’
20 ‘Fyvie lands ly broad and wide, And O but they ly bonny! But I would not give my own true-love For all the lands in Fyvie.
21 ‘But make my bed, and lay me down, And turn my face to Fyvie, That I may see before I die My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
22 They made her bed, and laid her down, And turnd her face to Fyvie; She gave a groan, and died or morn, So neer saw Andrew Lammie.
23 Her father sorely did lament The loss of his dear Nannie, And wishd that he had gien consent To wed with Andrew Lammie.
24 But ah! alas! it was too late, For he could not recall her; Through time unhappy is his fate, Because he did controul her.
25 You parents grave who children have, In crushing them be canny, Lest for their part they break their heart, As did young Tifty’s Nanny.
* * * * *
C
#a.# Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 98; taken down “from the memory of a very old woman” (p. 197). #b.# Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 239; a stall copy collated with a recited copy.
1 At Mill of Tifty lived a man, In the neighbourhood of Fyvie; He had a luvely daughter fair, Was callëd bonny Annie.
2 Her bloom was like the springing flower That hails the rosy morning, With innocence and graceful mein Her beautous form adorning.
3 Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter Whose name was Andrew Lammie; He had the art to gain the heart Of Mill of Tifty’s Annie.
4 Proper he was, both young and gay, His like was not in Fyvie, Nor was ane there that could compare With this same Andrew Lammie.
5 Lord Fyvie he rode by the door Where livëd Tifty’s Annie; His trumpeter rode him before, Even this same Andrew Lammie.
6 Her mother called her to the door: ‘Come here to me, my Annie: Did eer you see a prettier man Than the trumpeter of Fyvie?’
7 Nothing she said, but sighing sore, Alas for bonnie Annie! She durst not own her heart was won By the trumpeter of Fyvie.
8 At night when all went to their bed, All slept full soon but Annie; Love so oppresst her tender breast, Thinking on Andrew Lammie.
9 ‘Love comes in at my bed-side, And love lies down beyond me; Love has possest my tender breast, And love will waste my body.
10 ‘The first time me and my love met Was in the woods of Fyvie; His lovely form and speech so soft Soon gaind the heart of Annie.
11 ‘He called me mistress; I said, No, I’m Tifty’s bonny Annie; With apples sweet he did me treat, And kisses soft and mony.
12 ‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny, I’ve often gane to meet my love, My bonny Andrew Lammie.’
13 But now alas! her father heard That the trumpeter of Fyvie Had had the art to gain the heart Of Mill of Tifty’s Annie.
14 Her father soon a letter wrote, And sent it on to Fyvie, To tell his daughter was bewitchd By his servant, Andrew Lammie.
15 Then up the stair his trumpeter He callëd soon and shortly: ‘Pray tell me soon what’s this you’ve done To Tifty’s bonny Annie.’
16 ‘Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride, For it has ruined many; They’ll not have’t said that she should wed The trumpeter of Fyvie.
17 ‘In wicked art I had no part, Nor therein am I canny; True love alone the heart has won Of Tifty’s bonny Annie.
18 ‘Where will I find a boy so kind That will carry a letter canny, Who will run to Tifty’s town, Give it to my love Annie?
19 ‘Tifty he has daughters three Who all are wonderous bonny; But ye’ll ken her oer a’ the rest; Give that to bonny Annie.
20 ‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny, There wilt thou come and I’ll attend; My love, I long to see thee.
21 ‘Thou mayst come to the brig of Slugh, And there I’ll come and meet thee; It’s there we will renew our love, Before I go and leave you.
22 ‘My love, I go to Edinburgh town, And for a while must leave thee;’ She sighëd sore, and said no more But ‘I wish that I were with you!’
23 ‘I’ll buy to thee a bridal gown, My love, I’ll buy it bonny;’ ‘But I’ll be dead ere ye come back To see your bonny Annie.’
24 ‘If ye’ll be true and constant too, As I am Andrew Lammie, I shall thee wed when I come back To see the lands of Fyvie.’
25 ‘I will be true and constant too To thee, my Andrew Lammie, But my bridal bed or then’ll be made In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’
26 ‘The time is gone, and now comes on My dear, that I must leave thee; If longer here I should appear, Mill of Tifty he would see me.’
27 ‘I now for ever bid adieu To thee, my Andrew Lammie; Or ye come back I will be laid In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’
28 He hied him to the head of the house, To the house-top of Fyvie, He blew his trumpet loud and shrill, It was heard at Mill of Tifty.
29 Her father lockd the door at night, Laid by the keys fu canny, And when he heard the trumpet sound Said, Your cow is lowing, Annie.
30 ‘My father dear, I pray forbear, And reproach not your Annie; I’d rather hear that cow to low Than all the kye in Fyvie.
31 ‘I would not for my braw new gown, And all your gifts so many, That it was told in Fyvie land How cruel ye are to Annie.
32 ‘But if ye strike me I will cry, And gentlemen will hear me; Lord Fyvie will be riding by, And he’ll come in and see me.’
33 At the same time the lord came in; He said, What ails thee Annie? ‘It’s all for love now I must die, For bonny Andrew Lammie.’
34 ‘Pray, Mill of Tifty, give consent, And let your daughter marry;’ ‘It will be with some higher match Than the trumpeter of Fyvie.’
35 ‘If she were come of as high a kind As she’s advanced in beauty, I would take her unto myself, And make her my own lady.’
36 ‘Fyvie lands are far and wide, And they are wonderous bonny; But I would not leave my own true-love For all the lands in Fyvie.’
37 Her father struck her wonderous sore, As also did her mother; Her sisters also did her scorn, But woe be to her brother!
38 Her brother struck her wonderous sore, With cruel strokes and many; He broke her back in the hall-door, For liking Andrew Lammie.
39 ‘Alas! my father and my mother dear, Why so cruel to your Annie? My heart was broken first by love, My brother has broke my body.
40 ‘O mother dear, make me my bed, And lay my face to Fyvie; Thus will I lie, and thus will die For my dear Andrew Lammie.
41 ‘Ye neighbours hear, baith far and near, And pity Tifty’s Annie, Who dies for love of one poor lad, For bonny Andrew Lammie.
42 ‘No kind of vice eer staind my life, Or hurt my virgin honour; My youthful heart was won by love, But death will me exoner.’
43 Her mother than she made her bed, And laid her face to Fyvie; Her tender heart it soon did break, And never saw Andrew Lammie.
44 Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands, Said, Alas for Tifty’s Annie! The fairest flower’s cut down by love That ever sprang in Fyvie.
45 ‘Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride! He might have let them marry; I should have given them both to live Into the lands of Fyvie.’
46 Her father sorely now laments The loss of his dear Annie, And wishes he had given consent To wed with Andrew Lammie.
47 When Andrew home frae Edinburgh came, With muckle grief and sorrow, ‘My love is dead for me to-day, I’ll die for her to-morrow.
48 ‘Now I will run to Tifty’s den, Where the burn runs clear and bonny; With tears I’ll view the brig of Slugh, Where I parted from my Annie.
49 ‘Then will I speed to the green kirk-yard, To the green kirk-yard of Fyvie, With tears I’ll water my love’s grave, Till I follow Tifty’s Annie.’
* * * * *
#C. a.#
9^3. Love so oppressd: #b#, has possessd.
11^4. mony: #b#, many.
44^3. flower: #b#, flower’s.
47^1. home: #b#, hame.
48^2. For perhaps Aberdonian for Where: #b#, Where.
#b.#
Insignificant variations will not be noted.
7^1. She sighed sore, but said no more.
8^2. Sound for soon (soun?).
9^3. Love has possessd.
11^4. many.
13^4. Of Tiftie’s bonny Annie. After 14:
When Lord Fyvie had this letter read, O dear! but he was sorry: ‘The bonniest lass in Fyvie’s land Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie.’
16, 17 are 17, 16.
16^1. Woe betide Mill.
16^3. He’ll no hae’t. After 18:
‘Here you shall find a boy so kind Who’ll carry a letter canny, Who will run on to Tiftie’s town, And gie’t to thy love Annie.’
19^3. a’ the lave.
20^{3,4}. and meet thy love, Thy bonny Andrew Lammie.
21. ‘When wilt thou come, and I’ll attend? My love, I long to see thee:’ ‘Thou mayst come to the bridge of Sleugh, And there I’ll come and meet thee.’
24^2. As my name’s.
26^1. Our time.
28^3. schill.
30^4. Than hae a’ the kine.
35^2. she’s adorned with.
36^1. are fair.
After 43:
But the word soon went up and down, Through all the lands of Fyvie, That she was dead and buried, Even Tiftie’s bonny Annie.
44^3. flower’s.
45^1. O woe betide Mill.
After 46:
Her mother grieves both air and late, Her sisters, cause they scornd her; Surely her brother doth mourn and grieve For the cruel usage he’d givn her.
But now alas! it was too late, For they could not recal her; Through life unhappy is their fate Because they did controul her.
47^1. hame.
47^3. love has died.
48^2. Where.
48^4. parted last with Annie. After 49:
Ye parents grave who children have, In crushing them be canny, Lest when too late you do repent; Remember Tiftie’s Annie.
234
CHARLIE MACPHERSON
#A.# ‘Charlie MacPherson,’ Harris MS., fol. 23 b.
#B.# ‘Charlie M’Pherson,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 85.
Charlie Macpherson comes to Kinaldie with a large party of men from the West Isle to take away Helen, whom he has long courted, #A# 1, 4. Helen’s mother is obliged to admit them. When her daughter is asked for, MacPherson is told that she has gone to Whitehouse, to marry auld Gairn, #A# 5 (Dalgairn, #B# 12). The party go on to Whitehouse, where indeed they find Helen, and everybody there calling her bride. We expect a collision, and judging by #A# 8 there was one, with the bride wishing well to the assailants. But in #B# (where there is no hint that Helen favors her irregular suitor), MacPherson comports himself very mildly, and only wishes, as he goes off, that his heavy heart may light on Whitehouse of Cromar.
The ballad was known to Mrs Brown of Falkland.[136] She gives it the title of ‘The Carrying-off of the Heiress of Kinady,’ from which it is warrantable to conclude that MacPherson was so far successful.
There are several Kinaldies and more than one Whitehouse. The Kinaldie which we have to do with here is a small place in the parish of Logie-Coldstone, Cromar. Milton of Whitehouse is about a mile to the south of Kinaldie, and seems to be the place intended by Whitehouse o Cromar, #B# 18, 20. Braemar, #A# 7^1, should then be Cromar.
* * * * *
A
Harris MS., fol. 23 b; from Mrs Harris’s singing.
1 Charlie MacPherson, that braw Hieland lad[die], On Valentine’s even cam doun to Kinaltie, Courtit Burd Hellen, baith wakin an sleepin: ‘Oh, fair fa them has my love in keepin!’
2 Charlie MacPherson cam doun the dykeside, Baith Milton an Muirton an a’ bein his guide; Baith Milton an Muirton an auld Water Nairn, A’ gaed wi him, for to be his warn.
3 Whan he cam to the hoose o Kinaltie, ‘Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in! Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in! For here’s a commission come frae your gude-son.
4 ‘Madam,’ says Charlie, ‘whare [i]s your dochter? Mony time have I come to Kinatie an socht her; Noo maun she goe wi me mony a mile, Because I’ve brocht mony men frae the West Isle.’
5 ‘As for my dochter, she has gane abroad. You’ll no get her for her tocher gude; She’s on to Whitehouse, to marry auld Gairn: Oh, fair fa them that wait on my bairn!’
6 Charlie MacPherson gaed up the dykeside, Baith Muirtoun an Milton an a’ bein his guide; Baith Muirton an Milton an auld Water Nairn, A’ gaed wi him, for to be his warn.
7 Whan he cam to the hoose in Braemar, Sae weel as he kent that his Nellie was there! An Nellie was sittin upon the bed-side, An every one there was ca’ing her, bride.
8 The canles gaed oot, they waurna weel licht, Swords an spears they glancet fou bricht; Sae laith as she was her true-love to beguile, Because he brocht mony men frae the West Isle.
* * * * * *
* * * * *
B
Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 85.
1 Charlie M’Pherson, that brisk Highland laddie, At Valentine even he came to Kinadie:
2 To court her Burd Helen, baith waking and sleeping; Joy be wi them that has her a keeping!
3 Auldtown and Muirtown, likewise Billy Beg, All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his guide.
4 Jamie M’Robbie, likewise Wattie Nairn, All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his warran.
5 When they came to Kinadie, they knockd at the door; When nae ane woud answer, they gaed a loud roar.
6 ‘Ye’ll open the door, mistress, and lat us come in; For tidings we’ve brought frae your appearant guid-son.’
7 For to defend them, she was not able; They bangd up the stair, sat down at the table.
8 ‘Ye’ll eat and drink, gentlemen, and eat at your leisure; Nae thing’s disturb you, take what’s your pleasure.’
9 ‘O madam,’ said he, ‘I’m come for your daughter; Lang hae I come to Kinadie and there sought her.
10 ‘Now she’s gae wi me for mony a mile, Before that I return unto the West Isle.’
11 ‘My daughter’s not at home, she is gone abroad; Ye darena now steal her, her tocher is guid.
12 ‘My daughter’s in Whitehouse, wi Mistress Dalgairn; Joy be wi them that waits on my bairn!’
13 The swords an the targe that hang about Charlie, They had sic a glitter, and set him sae rarelie!
14 They had sic a glitter, and kiest sic a glamour, They showed mair light than they had in the chamour.
15 To Whitehouse he went, and when he came there Right sair was his heart when he went up the stair.
16 Burd Helen was sitting by Thomas’ bed-side, And all in the house were addressing her, bride.
17 ‘O farewell now, Helen, I’ll bid you adieu; Is this a’ the comfort I’m getting frae you?
18 ‘It was never my intention ye shoud be the waur; My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar!
19 ‘For you I hae travelled full mony lang mile, Awa to Kinadie, far frae the West Isle.
20 ‘But now ye are married, and I am the waur; My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar!’
* * * * *
#A.#
Air, Whilk o ye lasses.
#B.#
Printed in stanzas of four short lines.
235
THE 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, is #B a# with 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 is #B a# with 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 in #G#). According to #A#, #C#, #D# 24, #F#, the countess languished for about a twelvemonth, and then died of a broken heart; but #D# 25, #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 that #J# alone 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. In #J#, Peggy Irvine is only Aboyne’s love, 1^3, and Aboyne is her true lover, 8^3. 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 in #D#, #G#, #H#. The Marquis of Huntly is blamed by Aboyne for inciting him to unkindness, #D# 28, #G# 11.
* * * * *
A
Kinloch MSS, V, 351; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.
1 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.
2 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.
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.’
7 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.
8 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.
9 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.
10 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-day Had I stayed the night in London.’
12 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.’
13 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.’
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 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 ride Wi his company and him to London.’
17 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.
18 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.
19 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.
20 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.
* * * * *
B
#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.
1 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.
2 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.’
4 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.’
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.’
10 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.
11 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.
12 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.’
13 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.’
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.’
16 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.
17 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.’
19 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.
* * * * *
C
Skene MS., p. 58; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 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.
2 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
4 ‘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.’
6 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-day Gif I had staid in London.’
8 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.’
10 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.’
12 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!’
13 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.
14 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 Aboyne Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’
16 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!
18 ‘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.’
* * * * *
D
“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 17; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.
1 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.
2 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.’
4 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.’
5 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?’
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.’
12 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.
13 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.’
14 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.’
16 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.’
17 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.’
19 ‘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.
21 ‘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.’
23 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.
24 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.
25 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 Geich Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.’
27 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 unkin To a true an a beautifu lady!’
29 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.
* * * * *
E
Harris MS., fol. 21 b; from the recitation of Mrs Harris.
1 ‘My maidens fair, yoursels prepare.’
2 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.’
4 ‘Tomorrow soud hae been my bonnie waddin-day, If I had staid in London.’
5 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.’
6 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.
7 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 Aboyne Than lost my pretty Peggy Ewan.’
* * * * *
F
Motherwell’s MS., p. 635; “from the recitation of Margaret Black, wife of Archie Black, sailor in Ayr, a native of Aberdeenshire.”
1 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.
2 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.
3 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.
4 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.
5 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-day Had I remained in London.’
7 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.’
8 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.’
9 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.
10 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.’
12 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.
* * * * *
G
Motherwell’s MS., p. 131.
1 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.
2 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.
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.’
5 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.
6 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.
7 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 me With your humble servant-woman.’
9 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 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 unkind To a good and a dutiful lady!’
* * * * *
H
Campbell MSS, II, 105.
1 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.
3 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 town Tomorrow I would hae been married in Lunnon.’
5 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.’
7 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 Gight Or I had lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.’
* * * * *
I
Motherwell’s MS., p. 128.
1 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.
2 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.’
4 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.’
6 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-day Had I staid any longer in London.’
8 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.
9 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.
* * * * *
J
Motherwell’s MS., p. 135; from the recitation of Widow Nicol, of Paisley.
1 The Earl of Aboyne has up to London gone, And all his nobles with him, And three broad letters he sent into his love He would wed another woman in London.
2 She has turned the honey month about, To see if he was coming, And lang three miles ere he came to the town She heard his bridle ringing.
3 She’s went down unto the close and she’s taen him from his horse, Says, Ye’re welcome home from London! ‘If I be as welcome, dear Peggy, as you say, Come kiss me for my coming.
4 ‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, dear Peggy,’ he said, ‘Come kiss me for my coming, For tomorrow should have been my wedding-day Had I tarried any longer in London.’
5 She has turned herself round about, And she was an angry woman: ‘If tomorrow should have been your wedding-day, You may kiss with your sweethearts in London.’
6 ‘Go saddle me my steed,’ he said, ‘Saddle and make him ready; For I must away to the bonny Bog of Keith, For to visit the Marquis of Huntley.’
7 ‘Go ask him, go ask, dear Thomas,’ she said, ‘Go ask if he’ll take me with him;’ ‘I’ve asked him once, and I’ll ask him no more, For ye’ll never ride a mile in his company.’
8 ‘Go make to me my bed,’ she said, ‘Make it soft and narrow; For since my true lover has slighted me so, I will die for him ere morrow.’
9 She has called her waiting-man, And Jean her gentlewoman: ‘Go bring to me a glass of red wine, For I’m as sick as any woman.’
10 The bed it was not made nor well laid down, Nor yet the curtains drawn on, Till stays and gown and all did burst, And it’s alace for bonny Peggy Irvine!
11 The Earl of Aboyne was not at the Bog of Keith, Nor met wi the Marquis of Huntley, Till three broad letters were sent after him That his pretty Peggy Irvine had left him.
12 He gave such a rap on the table where he sat It made all the room for to tremble: ‘I would rather I had lost all the rents of Aboyne Than have lost my pretty Peggy Irvine.’
* * * * *
K
Communicated by Mr Alexander Laing; from the recitation of Miss Fanny Walker, of Mount Pleasant, near Newburgh-on-Tay.
1 The Earl o Aboyne is awa to Lunnon gane, An he’s taen Joannan wi him, An it ill be Yule ere he come again; But he micht hae taen his bonnie Peggie Ewan.
2 Cook-maidens all, be ready at my call, Hae a’ your pats an pans a-reekin; For the finest o flowrs, gae through your bowrs, For the Earl o Aboyne ‘s a comin.
* * * * *
L
Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 54. “An old woman (native of Banfshire) sings ‘The Earl of Aboyne,’ beginning:”
The Lord Aboyn’s to London gone, And his hail court wi him; Better he had staid at hame, Or taen his lady wi him.
* * * * *
#A.#
3^3. Perhaps bretlher a: not understood by me in either case. clear may be clean.
20^2. keping. Glossed “meeting” in a note, but the line is not intelligible to me, and does not seem to be consistent with what follows.
#B. a.#
9^3. herbs sweet air. Robertson, New Deeside Guide, prints herbs sweet an fair.
12^6. Robertson prints ony langer.
#b.#
1. The Earl o Aboyne he’s courteous an kind, He’s kind to every woman, An he has left the castle o Aboyne An gane to dwell in Lunan; An sair was the heart his lady had, Because she wan na wi him.
2. As she was walking in her garden green, Alang wi her gentlewoman, There was a letter brocht to her That her lord was wed in London.
3. Wanting.
4^2. saw twa bonny boys.
4^4. bring ye.
5^1. ye lady.
5^2. For the Earl o.
5^{3,4}. Wanting.
6^1. all wanting.
6^4, 8^4, 9^6. Earl for Lord.
7, 8^{2,3}, 9^{2–5}, 10, 11^{1,2}. Wanting.
9^1. maidens.
11^5. Gae bring me a pint o the gude red wine.
12^2. Says, Ye’re welcome hame.
12^3. welcome, he cried, as.
12^5. wad hae been.
12^6. only langer.
13^1. her about wi a scornfu.
13^3. suld hae been his.
13^4. He may kiss his miss in.
14^1. My merry men a’.
14^2. I’m wae at heart for.
14^3. The nicht we’ll licht.
14^4. An the morn tak.
15, 16^{1,2}, 17^4, 18^2. Wanting.
18^1. My merry men a’ now turn.
19^1. near to bonny Aboyne.
19^3. the tollin.
#a# may have been derived from a printed copy, and #b# learned from the same.
#C.#
The latter half of the Skene MS. is very carelessly copied. Here, as in other places, stanzas are not separated, lines are improperly divided, and there are omissions which are in no way indicated.
1^3. man hin | Before to, etc.
#D.#
4^4. yonder’s? But yonder may==yonder are.
14^4. She speed.
#G.#
7, 8 #are# 2, 3 in the MS.
#H.#
7^4. streeket. MS., perhaps, struket.
#I.#
1^1, 3^4. of is of later insertion.
6^3. came hame, originally; hame is erased and to town written above.
#J.#
2^1. I do not understand turned the honey month.
3^1. taen from him.
3^3. as you say: originally written he says.
7^1. him struck out after the second ask.
236
THE LAIRD O DRUM
#A. a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 9. #b#. ‘Laird of Drum,’ Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 199.
#B.# ‘The Laird of Doune’ [miswritten for Drum], Skene MS., p. 78.
#C.# MS. copy formerly in the possession of Sir Walter Scott.
#D. a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 194. #b#. ‘The Laird of Drum,’ Buchan’s MSS, II, 101; Dixon, Scottish Traditional Versions of Ancient Ballads, p. 53, Percy Society, vol. xvii. #c#. The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown, [1832,] p. 11. #d#. Gibb MS., p. 21.
#E.# ‘The Laird of Drum,’ MS., inserted in Dr Joseph Robertson’s interleaved copy of The New Deeside Guide, Aberdeen [1832].
#F. a.# ‘The Ladye o the Drum,’ Loudon MS., p. 7. #b#. ‘The Laird o the Drum,’ Macmath MS., p. 13.
First taken into a collection by Kinloch, 1827, who remarks that the ballad had been printed as a broadside in the North, and was extremely popular. #B#, the oldest version that has been recovered, was written down in 1802–3. There are verbal agreements between #B#, especially, and a fragment in Herd’s MSS (I, 55, II, 187, Herd’s Scottish Songs, 1776, II, 6), and there has been borrowing from one side or the other. Herd’s fragment belongs to a ballad of a shepherd’s daughter and an earl which is preserved in two copies in Motherwell’s MS. (I, 37, 252). No 397 of The Musical Museum, communicated to Johnson, says Stenhouse, by Burns, [1792,] and probably in a large measure his work, begins with stanzas which may have been suggested by the ballad before us or by the other. See an appendix.
The copy in Christie, I, 24, was epitomized from #A b#, with some alterations. That in The Deeside Guide, 1889, p. 17, is Aytoun’s, compounded of #A b# and #D a#.
Alexander Irvine, the young laird of Drum, says Spalding, was married to the lady Mary Gordon on December 7, 1643: Memorials of the Trubles in Scotland, etc., II, 296. Lady Mary Gordon was fourth daughter to George the second Marquis of Huntly, and niece to the Marquis of Argyll. The Laird of Drum suffered extremely in his worldly fortunes through his fidelity to the cause of the Stuarts. This would have been a natural reason for his declining a peerage offered him at the Restoration, and for his marrying, the second time, to win and not to spend. He took for his second wife Margaret Coutts (#A# 9), “a woman of inferior birth and manners, which step gave great offence to his relations.” (Kinloch.) He died in 1687. After the death of Irvine of Drum, Margaret Coutts married Irvine of Cults. She died in 1710, at the age of only forty-five.[137]
Drum is ten miles west of Aberdeen.[138]
For the commonplace in #A a# 3, #B# 8, #C# 5, etc., see II, 181 #b#.
Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, No 29, p. 105, translates Allingham’s ballad.
* * * * *
A
#a.# Kinloch MSS, V, 9, in the handwriting of James Beattie. #b.# Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 199; “from recitation.”
1 O it fell out upon a day, When Drums was going to ride, O And there he met with a well-far’d may, Keeping her flocks on yon side. O
2 ‘O fair may, O rare may, Can not you fancy me? Of a’ the lasses here about I like nane so well as thee.’
3 ‘Set your love on another, kind sir, Set it not on me, For I’m not fit to be your bride, And your whore I’ll never be.’
4 Drums is to her father gane, Keeping his flocks on yon hill, And he has gotten his consent, And the maid was at his will.
5 ‘My daughter can neither read nor write, She was neer brought up at school; But well can she milk cow and ewe, And make a kebbuck well.
6 ‘She’ll winn in your barn at bear-seed time, Cast out your muck at Yule; She’ll saddle your steed in time o need, Draw aff your boots hersell.’
7 ‘Have not I no clergymen? Pay I no clergy fee? I’ll school her as I think fit, And as I think fit to be.’
8 Drums is to the Highlands gane For to be made ready, And a’ the gentry thereabout Says, Yonder comes Drums and his lady.]
9 ‘Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride, And Drums is a wealthy laddie; But Drums might hae chosen a higher match Than any shepherd’s daughter.’
10 Then up bespake his brother John, Says, Brother you’ve done us wrong; You’ve married ane below our degree, A stain to a’ our kin.
11 ‘Hold your tongue, my brother John, I have done you no wrong; For I’ve married ane to wirk and win, And ye’ve married ane to spend.
12 ‘The last time that I had a wife, She was above my degree; I durst not come in her presence But with my hat on my knee.’
13 There was four-and-twenty gentlemen Stood at the yetts o Drum; There was na ane amang them a’ That welcomd his lady in.
14 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand And led her in himsell, And in thro ha’s and in thro bowers, ‘And you’re welcome, Lady o Drum.’
15 Thrice he kissd her cherry cheek, And thrice her cherry chin, And twenty times her comely mouth, ‘And you’re welcome, Lady o Drum.’
16 ‘Ye shall be cook in my kitchen, Butler in my ha; Ye shall be lady at my command When I ride far awa.’
17 ‘But what will I do when auld Drum dies, When auld Drum dies and leaves me? Then I’ll tak back my word again, And the Coutts will come and see me.’
* * * * * *
* * * * *
B
Skene MS., p. 78; taken down from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.
1 There was a knight, [an a gallant knight,] An a gallant knight was he, An he’s faen in love Wi his shepherd’s daghterie.
2 . . . . . . . He could neither gang nor ride, He fell so deep in her fancy, Till his nose began to bleed.
3 ‘Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a’ the maid[s] I ever saw, There is nane I loo by you.’
4 ‘Ye’r a shepherd’s ae daghter, An I’m a barron’s son; An what pleasure I wad hae To see ye gae out an in!’
5 ‘I’m a shepherd’s ae dochter, An ye’r a barron’s son; An there is nae pleasure I could ha To see ye gae out or in.
6 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘For I wadna gie the fancy of my bonny love For na love nor favour o you.’
7 ‘Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a’ the maids I ever saw There is nane I loo by you.’
8 ‘Lay na yer fancy, sir, on me,’ she says, ‘Lay na yer fancy on me; For I’m our low to be yer bride, An yer quine I’ll never be.
9 ‘For I will wear nane o yer silks, Nor nane o yer scarlet claes; For the hue o the whin shall be my gown, An I will gae as I pleas.’
10 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Ye’r na our laigh to be my bride, An my quine ye’s never be.
11 ‘Bonny may, and bra may, Winna ye on me rue? By a’ the maids I ever see, There’s nane I loo but you.’
12 ‘Gin ye ha faen so deep in my fancy Ye can neither gan[g] nor ride, Gae tak me to the middle o the ring, An bring me guid companie.’
13 He has taen her by the milk-white hand And led her thro haas an bowers: ‘Ye’r the choice of my heart, An a’ I hae is yours.’
14 He took her by the milk-white hand And led her out and in: ‘Ye’r the choice o my heart, My dear, ye’r welcome in.’
15 Out spake his brither John, ‘Brither, ye ha done great wrong; Ye hae married a wife this night Disdained by a’ yer kin.’
16 ‘Hold yer tong, my brither John, For I hae don na wrong; For I ha married a wife to ..., An ye ha ane to spend.’
* * * * *
C
From a MS. copy formerly in possession of Sir Walter Scott; communicated by the Rev. W. Forbes-Leith, through Mr Macmath.
1 There was a shepherd’s daughter Sheering at the bear, And by cam the Laird o Drum, On an evening clear.
2 ‘O will ye fancy me, fair maid? O will ye fancy me? O will ye fancy me, fair maid, An lat the sheering be?’
3 ‘O say na sae again, kind sir, O say na sae again; I’m owr low to be your bride, Ye’r born owr high a man.’
4 Said, Fair maid, O rare maid, Will ye on me rue? Amang a’ the lasses o the land I fancy nane but you.
5 ‘Lay your love on another,’ she said, ‘And lay it not on me, For I’m owr low to be your bride, Your miss I’ll never be.
6 ‘Yonder is my father dear, Wi hogs upon yon hill; Gif ye get but his consent, I shall be at your will.’
7 He’s taen him to her father dear, Keeps hogs upon yon hill, An he has gotten his consent, The may was at his will.
8 ‘My daughter canna read or write, She never was at school; Weel can she milk cow and ewe, An serve your house fu weel.
9 ‘Weel can she shack your barns An gae to mill an kill, Saddle your steed in time o need, And draw your boots hirsel.
10 ‘She canna wear your silk sae fine, Nor yet your silver clear; The hue o the ewe man be her weed, Altho she was your dear.’
11 He’s wedded the shepherd’s daughter, An he has taen her hame; He’s wedded the shepherd’s daughter, An led her on to Drum.
12 There were four an twenty bold barons Stood at the yet o Drum; There was na ane amang them a’ That welcomd his lady hame.
13 Out then spak his brother dear, Says, Ye’v done mickel wrong; Ye’v wedded a mean woman, The lack o a’ our kin.
14 ‘I never did thee wrong, brother, I never did thee wrong; I’ve wedded a woman to work an win, An ye hae ane to spen.
15 ‘The last woman I wedded Was aboon my degree; I could na sit in her presence But wi hat upon my knee.’
16 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand An led her but an ben, An in the ha, amang them a’, He’s hailed her Lady Drum.
17 ‘Now I’ve wedded the shepherd’s daughter, An I hae brought her hame, In the ha, amang ye a’, She is welcome hame to Drum.’
* * * * *
D
#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 194. #b.# Buchan’s MSS, II, 101. #c.# The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown [Joseph Robertson], [1832], p. 11. #d.# Gibb MS., p. 21, No 4, from the recitation of a schoolfellow at Auchinblae, Kincardineshire, about 1851.
1 The laird o Drum is a hunting gane, All in a morning early, And he did spy a well-far’d may, Was shearing at her barley.
2 ‘O will ye fancy me, fair may, And let your shearing be, O And gang and be the lady o Drum? O will ye fancy me?’ O
3 ‘I winna fancy you,’ she says, ‘Nor let my shearing be; For I’m ower low to be Lady Drum, And your miss I’d scorn to be.’
4 ‘But ye’ll cast aff that gown o grey, Put on the silk and scarlet; I’ll make a vow, and keep it true, You’ll neither be miss nor harlot.’
5 ‘Then dee you to my father dear, Keeps sheep on yonder hill; To ony thing he bids me do I’m always at his will.’
6 He has gane to her father dear, Keeps sheep on yonder hill: ‘I’m come to marry your ae daughter, If ye’ll gie me your gude will.’
7 ‘She’ll shake your barn, and winna your corn, And gang to mill and kill; In time of need she’ll saddle your steed; And I’ll draw your boots mysell.’
8 ‘O wha will bake my bridal bread, And wha will brew my ale, And wha will welcome my lady hame, It’s mair than I can tell.’
9 Four an twenty gentle knights Gied in at the yetts o Drum; But nae a man lifted his hat Whan the lady o Drum came in.
10 But he has taen her by the hand, And led her but and ben; Says, You’r welcome hame, my lady Drum, For this is your ain land.
11 For he has taen her by the hand, And led her thro the ha; Says, You’r welcome hame, my lady Drum, To your bowers ane and a’.
12 Then he [’s] stript her o the robes o grey, Drest her in the robes o gold, And taen her father frae the sheep-keeping, Made him a bailie bold.
13 She wasna forty weeks his wife Till she brought hame a son; She was as well a loved lady As ever was in Drum.
14 Out it speaks his brother dear, Says, You’ve dune us great wrang; You’ve married a wife below your degree, She’s a mock to all our kin.
15 Out then spake the Laird of Drum, Says, I’ve dune you nae wrang; I’ve married a wife to win my bread, You’ve married ane to spend.
16 ‘For the last time that I was married, She was far abeen my degree; She wadna gang to the bonny yetts o Drum But the pearlin abeen her ee, And I durstna gang in the room where she was But my hat below my knee.’
17 When they had eaten and well drunken, And all men bound for bed, The Laird o Drum and his lady gay In ae bed they were laid.
18 ‘Gin ye had been o high renown, As ye are o low degree, We might hae baith gane down the streets Amang gude companie.’
19 ‘I tauld you ere we were wed You were far abeen my degree; But now I’m married, in your bed laid, And just as gude as ye.
20 ‘Gin ye were dead, and I were dead, And baith in grave had lain, Ere seven years were at an end, They’d not ken your dust frae mine.’
* * * * *
E
From Dr Joseph Robertson’s interleaved and annotated copy of The New Deeside Guide, [nominally] by James Brown [but written by Joseph Robertson], Aberdeen [1832]; inserted at p. 12.
1 The Laird of Drum is a wooing gane, All in a morning early, And there he spied a weel-far’d may, She was shearing at her barley.
2 ‘Will you fancy me, my bonny may, And will you fancy me? O And will you come and be Lady Drum, And let your shearing a be?’ O
3 ‘It’s I winna fancy you, kind sir, I winna fancy thee; For I’m too low to be lady o Drum, And your whore I would scorn to be.’
4 ‘Ye’ll cast aff the robes of gray, And put on the silk and the scarlet, And here to you I’ll make a vow Ye’se neither be whore nor harlot.’
5 ‘I winna cast aff the robes o gray, To put on the silk and the scarlet, But I’ll wear the colour of the ewe, For they set me better than a’ that.
6 ‘But ye’ll do you doun to my father dear, Keeping sheep on yonder hill, And the first ae thing that he bids me I’ll do, For I wirk aye at his will.’
7 He’s done him doun to her father dear, Keeping sheep on yonder hill: ‘Ye hae a pretty creature for your daughter; Dear me! but I like her well.’
8 ‘It’s she can neither read nor write, She was never brought up at the squeel; She canna wash your china cups, Nor yet mak a dish o tea.
9 ‘But well can she do a’ ither thing, For I learnt the girly mysell; She’ll fill in your barn, and winnow your corn, She’ll gang to your kill and your mill, And, time o need, she’ll saddle your steed, And draw your boots hersell.’
10 ‘Wha will bake my bridal bread, And wha will brew my ale? Wha will welcome my lady in? For it’s more than I can tell.’
11 There was four-and-twenty gentlemen Stood a’ in the yetts o Drum, But there was nane o them lifted their hats To welcome the young lady in.
12 But up spake his ae brither, Says, Brither, ye hae done wrang; Ye have married a wife this day A lauch to a’ our kin.
13 ‘I’ve married ane to win my bread, But ye married ane to spend; But as lang’s I’m able to walk to the yetts o Drum On me she may depend.
14 ‘The last lady that I did wed Was far above my command; I durst not enter the bower where she was But my hat low in my hand.’
15 When bells were rung, and mass was sung, And a’ man bound for bed, The Laird o Drum and the shepherd’s dother In one bed they were laid.
16 ‘If ye were come o noble bleed An were as high as me, We could gang to the yetts o Drum Amangst gueed companie.’
17 ‘I tald you ere we was wed I was oer low for thee, But now we are wedd and in ae bed laid, And you must be content wi me.
18 ‘For an ye were dead, an I were dead, And laid in the dust low down, When we were baith turnd up again Wha could ken your mould frae mine?’
* * * * *
F
#a.# Manuscript of David Louden, Morham, Haddington, p. 7, 1873; from Mrs Dickson, Rentonhall, derived from her great-grandmother. #b.# Macmath MS., p. 13; from Mr William Traquair, S. S. C., Edinburgh, obtained originally in Perthshire.
1 ‘Oh, will ye fancy me, fair maid? Oh, will ye fancy me? O Or will ye go to be ladye o the Drum, An let a’ your shearin abe? O An let a’ your shearin abe? O An let a’ your shearin abe ?’ O
2 ‘I can neither read nor write, Nor neer been brocht up at schule; But I can do all other things, An keep a hoose richt weel.
3 ‘My faither he’s a puir shepherd-man, Herds his hogs on yonder hill; Gin ye will go get his consent, Then I’ll be at your call.’
4 He has gane to her father, That herds hogs on yonder hill; He said, ‘You’ve got a pretty daughter, I’d fain tak her to my sel.’
5 ‘She can neither read nor write, Was neer brocht up at schule; But she can do all other things, An I learnt aye the lassie my sel.
6 ‘She’ll milk your cows, she’ll carry your corn, She’ll gang to the mill or the kiln; She’ll saddle your steed at any time of need, And she’ll brush up your boots hersel.’
7 ‘It’s who will bake my bridal bread? Or who will brew my ale? Or who will welcome this bonnie lassie in? For it’s more than I can tell.’
8 There’s four-and-twenty gentlemen Stand doun at the gate o the Drum; Not one of them all would take off his hat For to welcome the bonnie lassie in.
9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Oh, brother, you’ve married a wife this day A disgrace to all our kin.’
10 ‘Oh, brother, I’ve married a wife to win, And ye’ve got one to spen, And as long as the bonnie lassie walks out and in She shall aye be the ladye o the Drum.’
11 When all was done, and no bells rung, And all men bound for their bed, The laird and the shepherd’s bonnie daughter In one bed they were laid.
12 ‘Though I’m not of as noble blood, Nor yet of as high degree, Now I lie locked in your arms two, And you must be contented wi me.
13 ‘If you were dead, and I were dead, And baith laid in one grave, If we were baith to be raised up again, Wha would ken your dust frae mine?
* * * * *
#A. a.#
1^3. wellfar’d May.
2^1. fair May: rare May.
2^4. as thee May.
17. This stanza looks like a spurious addition.
#b.# Kinloch has taken fourteen of the seventeen stanzas of #a# (all but 1, 2, 17) into his printed copy, with a change of a word here and there (not here noticed), as was his way. The remaining ten stanzas must be from recitation, if Kinloch is to be understood strictly.
1. The laird o Drum is a-wooing gane; It was on a morning early; And he has fawn in wi a bonnie may, A-shearing at her barley.
2. ‘My bonnie may, my weel-faurd may, O will ye fancy me, O And gae and be the lady o Drum, And lat your shearing abee?’ O
3. ‘It’s I canna fancy thee, kind sir, I winna fancy thee; I winna gae and be lady o Drum, And lat my shearing abee.’
After 3. My father he is a shepherd mean, Keeps sheep on yonder hill, And ye may gae and spier at him, For I am at his will.
4. Drum: and always.
After 7:
‘I’ll learn your lassie to read and write, And I’ll put her to the scheel; She’ll neither need to saddle my steed, Nor draw aff my boots hersell.
‘But wha will bake my bridal bread, Or brew my bridal ale, And wha will welcome my bonnie bride, Is mair than I can tell.’
10^4. lake for stain, and so entered in pencil in the MS.
After 12:
‘The first wife that I did wed, She was far abeen my degree; She wadna hae walkd to the yetts o Drum But the pearls abeen her bree.
‘But an she was adord for as much gold As Peggie’s for beautie, She micht walk to the yetts o Drum Amang gueed companie.’
16^3. in my command, a plausible reading.
After 16:
‘But I told ye afore we war wed I was owre low for thee; But now we are wed, and in ae bed laid, And ye maun be content wi me.
‘For an I war dead, and ye war dead, And baith in ae grave laid, And ye and I war tane up again, Wha could distan your mouls frae mine?’
O is added to the second and fourth lines except when the rhyme is in two syllables, as in 1.
#B.#
Title. The Laird o Doune. So written twice: at p. 75 by anticipation, again at p. 78.
1^4. daighterie (i undotted): daghter he?
3^1. May: and always.
4^4, 11^4. May added, for singing.
6^4. Sir added for singing.
No division into stanzas, and no indication of gaps. The deficiency at the end of 16^3 is noted by ...
#D. a.#
O is added (for singing) to the second and fourth verse of every stanza except 1, 4, which have two-syllable rhyme.
19 is by mistake printed twice.
#b.# O added as in #a#.
2^1. me, bonny lassie.
2^3. O will ye fancy me, bonny lassie.
2^4. And lat your shearing be.
3^4, 4^4. whore for miss.
4^1. ye cast.
7^4. And wanting.
12, 13. Wanting.
16^{2,4}, 19^2. above for abeen.
16^5. durst not.
17^2. all man.
19. Repeated, as in #a#.
20^2. in your grave: lien.
Dixon made changes in printing this copy.
#c#.
O is not added as in #a#.
1^3. he has spied.
2^1. you.
3^3. lady o.
5^1. go you.
7^1. winn.
7^2. mill or.
9^4. Drum was come.
10^4. is a’ your ain.
12^2. in robes.
14^4. all your.
19^1. you weel ere.
20. Gin we were dead, and in grave laid, And then taen up again, I doubt they would look wi a gay clear ee That would ken your dust frae mine.
In Robertson’s annotated and interleaved copy, besides some readings from #E#, there are noted in the margin the following:
7^2. to your mill and your kill.
9^3. But there was nae ane did lift.
17^3. and the herd’s dochter.
19^1. you before that we. This stanza twice, as in #a#.
20 as in #a#.
#d.#
O is not added as in #a#, #b#.
1^2. Upon a.
1^3. he has spied.
2^2. O will you fancy me.
2^4. An let your shearin abee.
3^1. said.
3^2. abee.
3^3. For wanting. I’m far ower: lady o.
3^4. your whore I winna.
4, 5. Wanting.
6^1. her auld faither.
6^2. Kept sheep upon the.
6^3. Wanting.
6^4. That the may was at his will.
7. But my daughter can neither read nor write, She was never at the schule; But she’ll saddle your steed in time of need, An draw aff your boots hersel.
8^3. my bonny bride.
8^4. Is more.
9^1. gentlemen.
9^2. Stood at.
9^3. There was na ane that lifted.
9^4. Drum was come.
10^3. lady o.
10^4. is a’ your ain.
11–13. Wanting.
14^1. Out an spake his brither John.
14^4. a’ your.
15^1. Out an.
15^3. to save my gear.
16^1. the first time I had a wife.
16^{3,4}. I durstna, etc., ^{5,6} come before ^{3,4}.
17^2. to bed.
17^3. an the weel-faured may.
19^1. afore we.
19^3. we are: in ae.
19^4. An I’m: as thee.
20^2. in ae grave lain.
20^3. were come an gane.
20^4. Wha could ken your mools.
#E.#
O is appended, as in #D a#, #b#, except in 1, 4, 5.
#F. a.#
“Mrs Dickson says her mother used to say she has heard her (her mother’s) grandmother sing the following ballad with great glee. Air, Boyne Water.”
9^{3,4}, 10 are given as one stanza, the last two lines “instead of repeat.”
O is appended throughout.
#b.#
Variations given only in part.
O is appended as in #D#, #E#.
Begins:
The laird o the Drum a hunting went, One morning very early, And there he spied a bonny, bonny may, A shearing at the barley.
1. ‘And could ye fancy a gentleman? An wad ye married be? O Or wad ye be the lady o the Drum? I pray ye tell to me.’
‘I could, etc. And I wad, etc. But for to be the lady o the Drum, It’s by far too high for me.’
2. Wanting.
3^2, 4^2. Feeding sheep.
3^4. I’m entirely at his will. (Good prose: cf. 5^3.)
4^{3,4}. It’s I am in love wi your daughter, And I’ll.
5^3. But for all other things she’ll do very well.
6^{1,2}. Wanting.
7. Wanting.
8^2. Stood all at.
8^3. And nane o them would put their hand to their hat.
9. ‘O brother, you’ve married a wife the day, And you have done much ill; O brother you’ve married a wife today A scorn to a’ your kin.’
10^{1,2}. I’ve got a wife to win my bread, And you’ve got ane to spend it.
10^{3,4}. Wanting.
After 10:
The first wife that I married, She was far above my degree; I durst na enter the room she was in But wi hat below my knee.
11–13. Wanting.
* * * * *