Bulchevy's Book of English Verse Part 61

They fetch'd a web o' the silken claith, Another o' the twine, And they wapp'd them round that gude s.h.i.+p's side, But still the sea came in.

O laith, laith were our gude Scots lords To wet their cork-heel'd shoon; But lang or a' the play was play'd They wat their hats aboon.

And mony was the feather bed That flatter'd on the faem; And mony was the gude lord's son That never mair cam hame.

O lang, lang may the ladies sit, Wi' their fans into their hand, Before they see Sir Patrick Spens Come sailing to the strand!

And lang, lang may the maidens sit Wi' their gowd kames in their hair, A-waiting for their ain dear loves!

For them they'll see nae mair.

Half-owre, half-owre to Aberdour, 'Tis fifty fathoms deep; And there lies gude Sir Patrick Spens, Wi' the Scots lords at his feet!

skeely] skilful. lift] sky. lap] sprang. flatter'd] tossed afloat. kames] combs.

Ballads and Songs By Unknown Authors. 17th Cent.

369. The La.s.s of Lochroyan

'O WHA will shoe my bonny foot?

And wha will glove my hand?

And wha will bind my middle jimp Wi' a lang, lang linen band?

'O wha will kame my yellow hair, With a haw bayberry kame?

And wha will be my babe's father Till Gregory come hame?'

'They father, he will shoe thy foot, Thy brother will glove thy hand, Thy mither will bind thy middle jimp Wi' a lang, lang linen band.

'Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair, Wi' a haw bayberry kame; The Almighty will be thy babe's father Till Gregory come hame.'

'And wha will build a bonny s.h.i.+p, And set it on the sea?

For I will go to seek my love, My ain love Gregory.'

Up then spak her father dear, A wafu' man was he; 'And I will build a bonny s.h.i.+p, And set her on the sea.

'And I will build a bonny s.h.i.+p, And set her on the sea, And ye sal gae and seek your love, Your ain love Gregory.'

Then he 's gart build a bonny s.h.i.+p, And set it on the sea, Wi' four-and-twenty mariners, To bear her company.

O he 's gart build a bonny s.h.i.+p, To sail on the salt sea; The mast was o' the beaten gold, The sails o' cramoisie.

The sides were o' the gude stout aik, The deck o' mountain pine, The anchor o' the silver shene, The ropes o' silken twine.

She hadna sail'd but twenty leagues, But twenty leagues and three, When she met wi' a rank reiver, And a' his companie.

'Now are ye Queen of Heaven hie, Come to pardon a' our sin?

Or are ye Mary Magdalane, Was born at Bethlam?'

'I'm no the Queen of Heaven hie, Come to pardon ye your sin, Nor am I Mary Magdalane, Was born in Bethlam.

'But I'm the la.s.s of Lochroyan, That 's sailing on the sea To see if I can find my love, My ain love Gregory.'

'O see na ye yon bonny bower?

It 's a' covered owre wi' tin; When thou hast sail'd it round about, Lord Gregory is within.'

And when she saw the stately tower, s.h.i.+ning both clear and bright, Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave, Built on a rock of height,

Says, 'Row the boat, my mariners, And bring me to the land, For yonder I see my love's castle, Close by the salt sea strand.'

She sail'd it round, and sail'd it round, And loud and loud cried she, 'Now break, now break your fairy charms, And set my true-love free.'

She 's ta'en her young son in her arms, And to the door she 's gane, And long she knock'd, and sair she ca'd.

But answer got she nane.

'O open, open, Gregory!

O open! if ye be within; For here 's the la.s.s of Lochroyan, Come far fra kith and kin.

'O open the door, Lord Gregory!

O open and let me in!

The wind blows loud and cauld, Gregory, The rain drops fra my chin.

'The shoe is frozen to my foot, The glove unto my hand, The wet drops fra my yellow hair, Na langer dow I stand.'

O up then spak his ill mither, --An ill death may she die!

'Ye're no the la.s.s of Lochroyan, She 's far out-owre the sea.

'Awa', awa', ye ill woman, Ye're no come here for gude; Ye're but some witch or wil' warlock, Or mermaid o' the flood.'

'I am neither witch nor wil' warlock, Nor mermaid o' the sea, But I am Annie of Lochroyan, O open the door to me!'

'Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trow thou binna she, Now tell me of some love-tokens That pa.s.s'd 'tween thee and me.'

'O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings frae our fingers?

And I can shew thee thine.

'O yours was gude, and gude enough, But ay the best was mine, For yours was o' the gude red gowd, But mine o' the diamond fine.

'Yours was o' the gude red gowd, Mine o' the diamond fine; Mine was o' the purest troth, But thine was false within.'

'If ye be the la.s.s of Lochroyan, As I kenna thou be, Tell me some mair o' the love-tokens Pa.s.s'd between thee and me.'

'And dinna ye mind, love Gregory!

As we sat on the hill, Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheid, Right sair against my will?

'Now open the door, love Gregory!

Open the door! I pray; For thy young son is in my arms, And will be dead ere day.'

'Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman, So loud I hear ye lie; For Annie of the Lochroyan Is far out-owre the sea.'