| |
| “O WHA will shoe my fu fair foot? | |
| And wha will glove my hand? | |
| And wha will lace my middle jimp, 1 | |
| Wi the new made London band? | |
| |
| “And wha will kaim 2 my yellow hair, | 5 |
| Wi the new made silver kaim? | |
| And wha will father my young son, | |
| Till Love Gregor come hame?” | |
| |
| “Your father will shoe your fu fair foot, | |
| Your mother will glove your hand; | 10 |
| Your sister will lace your middle jimp | |
| Wi the new made London band. | |
| |
| “Your brother will kaim your yellow hair, | |
| Wi the new made silver kaim; | |
| And the king of heaven will father your bairn, | 15 |
| Till Love Gregor come haim.” | |
| |
| “But I will get a bonny boat, | |
| And I will sail the sea, | |
| For I maun gang 3 to Love Gregor, | |
| Since he canno come hame to me.” | 20 |
| |
| O she has gotten a bonny boat, | |
| And sailld the sa’t sea fame; 4 | |
| She langd to see her ain true-love, | |
| Since he could no come hame. | |
| |
| “O row your boat, my mariners, | 25 |
| And bring me to the land, | |
| For yonder I see my love’s castle, | |
| Closs by the sa’t sea strand.” | |
| |
| She has taen her young son in her arms, | |
| And to the door she’s gone, | 30 |
| And lang she’s knocked and sair she ca’d, | |
| But answer got she none. | |
| |
| “O open the door, Love Gregor,” she says, | |
| “O open, and let me in; | |
| For the win blaws thro my yellow hair, | 35 |
| And the rain draps oer my chin.” | |
| |
| “Awa, awa, ye ill woman, | |
| You’r nae come here for good; | |
| You’r but some witch, or wile warlock, 5 | |
| Or mer-maid of the flood.” | 40 |
| |
| “I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock, | |
| Nor mer-maid of the sea, | |
| I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal; | |
| O open the door to me.” | |
| |
| “Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal— | 45 |
| And I trust ye are not she— | |
| Now tell me some of the love-tokens | |
| That past between you and me.” | |
| |
| “O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor, | |
| When we sat at the wine, | 50 |
| How we changed the rings frae our fingers? | |
| And I can show thee thine. | |
| |
| “O yours was good, and good enneugh, | |
| But ay the best was mine; | |
| For yours was o the good red goud, | 55 |
| But mine o the dimonds fine. | |
| |
| “But open the door now, Love Gregor, | |
| O open the door I pray, | |
| For your young son that is in my arms | |
| Will be dead ere it be day.” | 60 |
| |
| “Awa, awa, ye ill woman, | |
| For here ye shanno win 6 in; | |
| Gae drown ye in the raging sea, | |
| Or hang on the gallows-pin.” | |
| |
| When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn, | 65 |
| And the sun began to peep, | |
| Then it raise him Love Gregor, | |
| And sair, sair did he weep. | |
| |
| “O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear, | |
| The thoughts o it gars 7 me greet, 8 | 70 |
| That Fair Annie of Rough Royal | |
| Lay cauld dead at my feet.” | |
| |
| “Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal | |
| That ye make a’ this din, | |
| She stood a’ last night at this door, | 75 |
| But I trow she wan 9 no in.” | |
| |
| “O wae betide ye, ill woman, | |
| An ill dead 10 may ye die! | |
| That ye woudno open the door to her, | |
| Nor yet woud waken me.” | 80 |
| |
| O he has gone down to yon shore-side, | |
| As fast as he could fare; | |
| He saw Fair Annie in her boat, | |
| But the wind it tossed her sair. | |
| |
| And “Hey, Annie!” and “How, Annie! | 85 |
| O Annie, winna ye bide?” | |
| But ay the mair that he cried Annie, | |
| The braider grew the tide. | |
| |
| And “Hey, Annie!” and “How, Annie! | |
| Dear Annie, speak to me!” | 90 |
| But ay the louder he cried Annie, | |
| The louder roard the sea. | |
| |
| The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, | |
| And dashd the boat on shore; | |
| Fair Annie floats on the raging sea, | 95 |
| But her young son raise no more. | |
| |
| Love Gregor tare his yellow hair, | |
| And made a heavy moan; | |
| Fair Annie’s corpse lay at his feet, | |
| But his bonny young son was gone. | 100 |
| |
| O cherry, cherry was her cheek, | |
| And gowden was her hair, | |
| But clay cold were her rosy lips, | |
| Nae spark of life was there. | |
| |
| And first he’s kissd her cherry cheek, | 105 |
| And neist he’s kissed her chin; | |
| And saftly pressed her rosey lips, | |
| But there was nae breath within. | |
| |
| “O wae betide my cruel mother, | |
| And an ill dead may she die! | 110 |
| For she turnd my true-love frae my door, | |
| When she came sae far to me.” | |
