Ballad Book Part 28

"We're naething near hame, bonnie Lizie, Nor yet the half o' the way."

Sair, O sair was she sighing, And the saut tear blindit her e'e: "Gin this be the pleasures o' luving, They never will do wi' me!"

"Now haud your tongue, bonnie Lizie; Ye never sall rue for me; Gie me but your luve for my ain luve, It is a' that your tocher will be.

"O haud your tongue, bonnie Lizie, Altho' that the gait seem lang; And you's hae the wale o' gude living When to Kincaussie we gang.

"My father he is an auld shepherd, My mither she is an auld dey; And we'll sleep on a bed o' green rashes, And dine on fresh curds and green whey."

They cam' to a hamely puir cottage; The auld woman 'gan for to say: "O ye're welcome hame, Sir Donald, It's yoursell has been lang away."

"Ye mustna ca' me Sir Donald, But ca' me young Donald your son; For I hae a bonnie young leddy Behind me, that's coming alang.

"Come in, come in, bonnie Lizie, Come hither, come hither," said he; "Altho' that our cottage be leetle, I hope we'll the better agree.

"O mak' us a supper, dear mither, And mak' it o' curds and green whey; And mak' us a bed o' green rashes, And cover it o'er wi' fresh hay."

She's made them a bed o' green rashes, And covered it o'er wi' fresh hay.

Bonnie Lizie was weary wi' travelling, And lay till 'twas lang o' the day.

"The sun looks in o'er the hill-head, An' the laverock is liltin' sae gay; Get up, get up, bonnie Lizie, Ye've lain till it's lang o' the day.

"Ye might hae been out at the shealin', Instead o' sae lang to lie; And up and helping my mither To milk her gaits and her kye."

Then sadly spak' out Lizie Lindsay, She spak' it wi' mony a sigh: "The leddies o' Edinbro' city They milk neither gaits nor kye."

"Rise up, rise up, bonnie Lizie, Rise up and mak' yoursel' fine; For we maun be at Kincaussie, Before that the clock strikes nine."

But when they cam' to Kincaussie, The porter he loudly doth say, "O ye're welcome hame, Sir Donald; It's yoursell has been lang away!"

It's doun then cam' his auld mither, Wi' a' the keys in her han'; Saying, "Tak' ye these, bonnie Lizie, For a' is at your comman'."

KATHARINE JANFARIE.

There was a may, and a weel-faur'd may.

Lived high up in yon glen: Her name was Katharine Janfarie, She was courted by mony men.

Doun cam' the Laird o' Lamington, Doun frae the South Countrie; And he is for this bonny la.s.s, Her bridegroom for to be.

He asked na her father, he asked na her mither, He asked na ane o' her kin; But he whispered the bonny la.s.sie hersel', And did her favor win.

Doun cam' an English gentleman, Doun frae the English border; And he is for this bonnie la.s.s, To keep his house in order.

He asked her father, he asked her mither, And a' the lave o' her kin; But he never asked the la.s.sie hersel'

Till on her wedding-e'en.

But she has wrote a lang letter, And sealed it wi' her han'; And sent it away to Lamington, To gar him understan'.

The first line o' the letter he read, He was baith fain and glad; But or he has read the letter o'er, He's turned baith wan and sad.

Then he has sent a messenger, To rin through a' his land; And four and twenty armed men Were sune at his command.

But he has left his merry men all, Left them on the lee; And he's awa' to the wedding-house, To see what he could see.

They all rase up to honor him, For he was of high renown; They all rase up to welcome him, And bade him to sit down.

O meikle was the gude red wine In silver cups did flow; But aye she drank to Lamington, And fain with him wad go.

"O come ye here to fight, young lord?

Or come ye here to play?

Or come ye here to drink gude wine Upon the wedding-day?"

"I come na here to fight," he said, "I come na here to play; I'll but lead a dance wi' the bonny bride, And mount and go my way."

He's caught her by the milk-white hand, And by the gra.s.s-green sleeve; He's mounted her hie behind himsel', At her kinsfolk spier'd na leave.

It's up, it's up the Couden bank, It's doun the Couden brae; And aye they made the trumpet soun, "It's a' fair play!"

Now a' ye lords and gentlemen That be of England born, Come ye na doun to Scotland thus, For fear ye get the scorn!

They'll feed ye up wi' flattering words, And play ye foul play; They'll dress you frogs instead of fish Upon your wedding-day!

GLENLOGIE.

Threescore o' n.o.bles rade to the king's ha', But bonnie Glenlogie's the flower o' them a'; Wi' his milk-white steed and his bonny black e'e, "Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for me!"

"O haud your tongue, dochter, ye'll get better than he."

"O say na sae, mither, for that canna be; Though Drumlie is richer, and greater than he, Yet if I maun lo'e him, I'll certainly dee.

"Where will I get a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon, Will gae to Glenlogie, and come again soon?"

"O here am I, a bonny boy, to win hose and shoon, Will gae to Glenlogie, and come again soon."

When he gaed to Glenlogie, 'twas "Wash and go dine,"

'Twas "Wash ye, my pretty boy, wash and go dine."

"O 'twas ne'er my father's fashion, and it ne'er shall be mine, To gar a lady's errand wait till I dine.

"But there is, Glenlogie, a letter for thee."

The first line he read, a low smile ga'e he; The next line he read, the tear blindit his e'e; But the last line he read, he gart the table flee.

"Gar saddle the black horse, gar saddle the brown; Gar saddle the swiftest steed e'er rade frae the town;"

But lang ere the horse was brought round to the green, O bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his lane.

When he cam' to Glenfeldy's door, sma' mirth was there; Bonnie Jean's mother was tearing her hair; "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, ye're welcome," said she "Ye're welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see."