Out spak Annet's mother dear, An' she spak a word o' pride; Says, "Whare is a' our bride's maidens, They're no busking the bride?" 60
"O haud your tongue, my mother dear, Your speaking let it be, For I'm sae fair and full o' flesh, Little busking will serve me."
Out an' spak the bride's maidens, 65 They spak a word o' pride; Says, "Whare is a' the fine cleiding?
Its we maun busk the bride."
"Deal hooly wi' my head, maidens, Deal hooly wi' my hair, 70 For it was washen late yestreen, And it is wonder sair.
"My maidens, easy wi' my back, And easy wi' my side; O set my saddle saft, Willie, 75 I am a tender bride."
O up then spak the southland lord, And blinkit wi' his ee; "I trow this lady's born a bairn,"
Then laucht loud lauchters three. 80
"Ye hae gi'en me the gowk, Annet, But I'll gie you the scorn; For there's no a bell in a' the town Shall ring for you the morn."
Out and spak then sweet Willie, 85 "Sae loud's I hear you lie, There's no a bell in a' the town But shall ring for Annet and me."
And Willie swore a great great oath, And he swore by the thorn, 90 That she was as free o' a child that night, As the night that she was born.
O up an' spak the brisk bridegroom,[L93]
And he spak up wi' pride, "Gin I should lay my gloves in pawn, 95 I will dance wi' the bride."
"Now haud your tongue, my lord," she said,[L97]
"Wi' dancing let me be, I am sae thin in flesh and blude, Sma' dancing will serve me." 100
But she's ta'en Willie by the hand, The tear blinded her ee; "But I wad dance wi' my true love, But bursts my heart in three."
She's ta'en her bracelet frae her arm, 105 Her garter frae her knee, "Gie that, gie that, to my young son; He'll ne'er his mother see."
93. _Sic_ Herd. Finlay, then sweet Willie.
97. _Sic_ Herd. Finlay, Willie, she said.
FAIR ANNIE OF LOCHROYAN.
Of this beautiful piece a complete copy was first published by Scott, another afterwards by Jamieson. Both are here given, the latter, as in some respects preferable, having the precedence. The ballad is found almost entire in Herd's _Scottish Songs_, i. 206, a short fragment in Johnson's _Museum_, p. 5, and a more considerable one, called _Love Gregory_, in Buchan's collection, ii. 199. This last has been unnecessarily repeated in a very indifferent publication of the Percy Society, vol. xvii. Dr. Wolcot, Burns, and Jamieson have written songs on the story of Fair Annie, and Cunningham has modernized Sir Walter Scott's version, after his fashion, in the _Songs of Scotland_, i. 298.
Of his text, Jamieson remarks, "it is given _verbatim_ from the large MS. collection, transmitted from Aberdeen, by my zealous and industrious friend, Professor Robert Scott of that university. I have every reason to believe, that no liberty whatever has been taken with the text, which is certainly more uniform than any copy heretofore published. It was first written down many years ago, with no view towards being committed to the press; and is now given from the copy then taken, with the addition only of stanzas twenty-two and twenty-three, which the editor has inserted from memory."
_Popular Ballads_, i. 36.
"Lochryan is a beautiful, though somewhat wild and secluded bay, which projects from the Irish Channel into Wigtonshire, having the little seaport of Stranraer situated at its bottom. Along its coast, which is in some places high and rocky, there are many ruins of such castles as that described in the ballad." CHAMBERS.
"O wha will shoe my fair foot, And wha will glove my han'?
And wha will lace my middle jimp Wi' a new-made London ban'?
"Or wha will kemb my yellow hair 5 Wi' a new-made silver kemb?
Or wha'll be father to my young bairn, Till love Gregor come hame?"
"Your father'll shoe your fair foot, Your mother glove your han'; 10 Your sister lace your middle jimp Wi' a new-made London ban';
"Your brethren will kemb your yellow hair Wi' a new-made silver kemb; And the king o' Heaven will father your bairn, 15 Till love Gregor come hame."
"O gin I had a bonny ship, And men to sail wi' me, It's I wad gang to my true love, Sin he winna come to me!" 20
Her father's gien her a bonny ship, And sent her to the stran'; She's taen her young son in her arms, And turn'd her back to the lan'.
She hadna been o' the sea sailin' 25 About a month or more, Till landed has she her bonny ship Near her true-love's door.
The nicht was dark, and the wind blew cald, And her love was fast asleep, 30 And the bairn that was in her twa arms Fu' sair began to greet.
Lang stood she at her true love's door, And lang tirl'd at the pin; At length up gat his fause mother, 35 Says, "Wha's that wad be in?"
"O it is Annie of Lochroyan, Your love, come o'er the sea, But and your young son in her arms; So open the door to me." 40
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman, You're nae come here for gude; You're but a witch, or a vile warlock, Or mermaid o' the flude."
"I'm nae a witch or vile warlock, 45 Or mermaiden," said she;-- "I'm but your Annie of Lochroyan;-- O open the door to me!"
"O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trust not ye be, 50 What taiken can ye gie that e'er I kept your companie?"
"O dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says, "Whan we sat at the wine, How we changed the napkins frae our necks? 55 It's nae sae lang sinsyne.
"And yours was gude, and gude enough, But nae sae gude as mine; For yours was o' the cambrick clear, But mine o' the silk sae fine. 60
"And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says, "As we twa sat at dine, How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers, And I can shew thee thine:
"And yours was gude, and gude enough, 65 Yet nae sae gude as mine; For yours was o' the gude red gold, But mine o' the diamonds fine.
"Sae open the door, now, love Gregor, And open it wi' speed; 70 Or your young son, that is in my arms, For cald will soon be dead."
"Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Gae frae my door for shame; For I hae gotten anither fair love, 75 Sae ye may hie you hame."
"O hae ye gotten anither fair love, For a' the oaths ye sware?
Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor; For me ye's never see mair!" 80
O hooly, hooly gaed she back, As the day began to peep; She set her foot on good ship board, And sair, sair did she weep.
"Tak down, tak down the mast o' goud; 85 Set up the mast o' tree; Ill sets it a forsaken lady To sail sae gallantlie.
"Tak down, tak down the sails o' silk; Set up the sails o' skin; 90 Ill sets the outside to be gay, Whan there's sic grief within!"
Love Gregor started frae his sleep, And to his mother did say, "I dreamt a dream this night, mither, 95 That maks my heart richt wae;
"I dreamt that Annie of Lochroyan, The flower o' a' her kin, Was standin' mournin' at my door, But nane wad lat her in." 100