| '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, | 5 |
| 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, | 10 |
| 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 | 15 |
| Till Gregory come hame.' | |
| |
| 'And wha will build a bonny ship, | |
| And set it on the sea? | |
| For I will go to seek my love, | |
| My ain love Gregory.' | 20 |
| |
| Up then spak her father dear, | |
| A wafu' man was he; | |
| 'And I will build a bonny ship, | |
| And set her on the sea. | |
| |
| 'And I will build a bonny ship, | 25 |
| 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 ship, | |
| And set it on the sea, | 30 |
| Wi' four-and-twenty mariners, | |
| To bear her company. | |
| |
| O he 's gart build a bonny ship, | |
| To sail on the salt sea; | |
| The mast was o' the beaten gold, | 35 |
| 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. | 40 |
| |
| 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, | 45 |
| 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, | 50 |
| Nor am I Mary Magdalane, | |
| Was born in Bethlam. | |
| |
| 'But I'm the lass of Lochroyan, | |
| That 's sailing on the sea | |
| To see if I can find my love, | 55 |
| 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.' | 60 |
| |
| And when she saw the stately tower, | |
| Shining both clear and bright, | |
| Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave, | |
| Built on a rock of height, | |
| |
| Says, 'Row the boat, my mariners, | 65 |
| 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, | 70 |
| '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. | 75 |
| But answer got she nane. | |
| |
| 'O open, open, Gregory! | |
| O open! if ye be within; | |
| For here 's the lass of Lochroyan, | |
| Come far fra kith and kin. | 80 |
| |
| '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, | 85 |
| 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! | 90 |
| 'Ye're no the lass 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, | 95 |
| 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!' | 100 |
| |
| 'Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, | |
| As I trow thou binna she, | |
| Now tell me of some love-tokens | |
| That pass'd 'tween thee and me.' | |
| |
| 'O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, | 105 |
| 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, | 110 |
| 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, | 115 |
| But thine was false within.' | |
| |
| 'If ye be the lass of Lochroyan, | |
| As I kenna thou be, | |
| Tell me some mair o' the love-tokens | |
| Pass'd between thee and me.' | 120 |
| |
| '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! | 125 |
| 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; | 130 |
| For Annie of the Lochroyan | |
| Is far out-owre the sea.' | |
| |
| Fair Annie turn'd her round about: | |
| 'Weel, sine that it be sae, | |
| May ne'er woman that has borne a son | 135 |
| Hae a heart sae fu' o' wae! | |
| |
| 'Tak down, tak down that mast o' gowd, | |
| Set up a mast of tree; | |
| It disna become a forsaken lady | |
| To sail sae royallie.' | 140 |
| |
| When the cock has crawn, and the day did dawn, | |
| And the sun began to peep, | |
| Up than raise Lord Gregory, | |
| And sair, sair did he weep. | |
| |
| 'O I hae dream'd a dream, mither, | 145 |
| I wish it may bring good! | |
| That the bonny lass of Lochroyan | |
| At my bower window stood. | |
| |
| 'O I hae dream'd a dream, mither, | |
| The thought o't gars me greet! | 150 |
| That fair Annie of Lochroyan | |
| Lay dead at my bed-feet.' | |
| |
| 'Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan | |
| That ye mak a' this mane, | |
| She stood last night at your bower-door, | 155 |
| But I hae sent her hame.' | |
| |
| 'O wae betide ye, ill woman, | |
| An ill death may ye die! | |
| That wadna open the door yoursell | |
| Nor yet wad waken me.' | 160 |
| |
| O he 's gane down to yon shore-side, | |
| As fast as he could dree, | |
| And there he saw fair Annie's bark | |
| A rowing owre the sea. | |
| |
| 'O Annie, Annie,' loud he cried, | 165 |
| 'O Annie, O Annie, bide!' | |
| But ay the mair he cried 'Annie,' | |
| The braider grew the tide. | |
| |
| 'O Annie, Annie, dear Annie, | |
| Dear Annie, speak to me!' | 170 |
| But ay the louder he gan call, | |
| The louder roar'd the sea. | |
| |
| The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie | |
| And dash'd the boat on shore; | |
| Fair Annie's corpse was in the faem, | 175 |
| The babe rose never more. | |
| |
| Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks | |
| And made a wafu' moan; | |
| Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, | |
| His bonny son was gone. | 180 |
| |
| 'O cherry, cherry was her cheek, | |
| And gowden was her hair, | |
| And coral, coral was her lips, | |
| Nane might with her compare.' | |
| |
| Then first he kiss'd her pale, pale cheek, | 185 |
| And syne he kiss'd her chin, | |
| And syne he kiss'd her wane, wane lips, | |
| There was na breath within. | |
| |
| 'O wae betide my ill mither, | |
| An ill death may she die! | 190 |
| She turn'd my true-love frae my door, | |
| Who cam so far to me. | |
| |
| 'O wae betide my ill mither, | |
| An ill death may she die! | |
| She has no been the deid o' ane, | 195 |
| But she 's been the deid of three.' | |
| |
| Then he 's ta'en out a little dart, | |
| Hung low down by his gore, | |
| He thrust it through and through his heart, | |
| And words spak never more. | 200 |
