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And whan she cam to Marie's kirke,
She sat on Marie's stean;
It skinkled in their ean.
And whan she cam into the kirke,
She skimmer'd like the sun;
Was a' wi' pearles bedone.
And hir een they wer sae clear,
When fair Annet drew near.
He had a rose into his hand,
it kisses three, And reaching by the nut-browne bride,
Laid it on fair Annet's knee.
Up then spak the nut-browne bride,
She spak wi' meikle spite;
That does mak yee sae white?
wull neir get nane; For I did get that very rose-water
The bride she drew a long bodkin
head-gear, And strake fair Annet unto the heart,
That word spak nevir mair.
Lord Thomas saw fair Annet wex pale,
And marvelit what mote bee; Bot whan he saw her dear bearts' blude,
A wood-wroth wexed hee.
He drew his dagger that was sae sharp,
That was sae sharp and ineet,
That fell deid at his feit.
Now stay, my dear, he cry'd;
And fell deid by hir side.
Fair Annet within the quiere:
The other a bonny briere.
As they wad faine be neare;
They wer twa luvers deare.
This Ballad is almost an universal favourite, and is to be met with in every part of the country, with innumerable variations. It is one of those
old ditties, with which unsophisticated youth will ever be found in unison, and over which, even the mind that is selfish and hackneyed in the ways of men, will be glad, at times, to doze and enjoy the momente ary dream of disinterested attachment.
ADAM O' GORDON.
Whan the wind blew shrill and cauld:
« We maun draw to a hauld.
My mirrie men and me?
“ And see that fair ladie."
Beheld baith dale and doun,
Riding toward the toun.
O see ye not, my mirry men a', 'O see ye not what I see? • Methinks I see a host of men,
* I marvel wha they be.' She wein'd it had been ber luvely lord,
As he came riding hame;
Wha reck'd nae sin or shame.
She had nae suner busked hersel,
And putten on her gown,
Were round about the toun.
The lady ran to her touir heid
Sae fast as she cold drie,
She cold wi' him agree.
And the yates a' locked fast,
And his heart was all aghast. “ Cum doun to me ye lady gay,
“ Cum doun, cum doun to me: “ This nicht
sall lye in my arms, “ The morrow my bride sall be.” ‘I winna cum doun ye fause Gordon,
I winna cum doun to thee; 'I winna forsake my ain deir lord,
'Thouch he is far frae me.'
“ Give owr your house, ye lady fair,
“ Give owr your house to me; “ Or I sall brin yoursel' therein,
“ Bot and your babies thrie.”
'I winna give owr, ye fause Gordon,
- To nae sic traitour as thee; "And if be brin me and my babes,
My lord sall mak ye drie. * But reach my pistol, Glaud my man,
• And charge ye weil my gun, • For, bot if I perce that bluidy butcher,
"We a' sall be undone.'
She stude upon the castle wa'
And let twa bullets flie;
And only raz’d his knie.
“ Set fire to the house,” cry'd fause Gordon,
A' wood wi' dule and ire; “Fause lady ye sall rue this deid
brin in the fire."
Wae worth, wae worth ye Jock my man,
' I paid ye weel your fee; Why pow ye out the ground-wa' stane
Lets in the reik to me?
Jock my man
. And ein wae worth
'I paid ye weil your hire;
" Ye paid me weil my bire, lady,
O then bespak her little son
Frae aff the nource's knie,
For the reik it smithers me!'
* I wald gie a' my gowd, my chyld,
“ Sae wald I a' my fee, " For ae blast o' the westlin wind,
“ To blaw the reik frae thee."
O then bespak her dochtir deir,
She was baith jimp and sma', O row me in a pair o' sheits, • And tow me owr the wa':'
They row'd her in a pair o' sheits,
And tow'd her owr the wa',
She gat a deidly fa'.
And chirry were her cheiks;
Wharon the reid bluid dreips !
O gin her face was wan!
“ I wish'd alive again.”
O gin her skin was white ! “I micht ha spar'd that bonnie face
“ To hae been sum man's delyte.
“ Busk and bown, my mirry men a',
“ For ill doom do I guess : “ I canna luik on that bonnie face,
“ As it lyes on the grass.” • Wha luik to freits, my master deir,
* Freits will ay follow them: • Let it neir be said, Adam o' Gordon
"Was daunted by a dame.'