Jamieson-Brown Manuscript, fol. 27;
Jamieson's Popular Ballads, I, 36.
| 1 |
'O wha will shoe my fu fair foot?
An wha will glove my han?
An wha will lace my middle gimp
Wi the new made London ban? |
| 2 |
'Or wha will kemb my yallow hair,
Wi the new made silver kemb?
Or wha'll be father to my young bairn,
Till Love Gregor come hame?' |
| 3 |
Her father shoed her fu fair foot,
Her mother glovd her han;
Her sister lac'd her middle gimp
Wi the new made London ban. |
| 4 |
Her brother kembd her yallow hair,
Wi the new made silver kemb,
But the king o heaven maun father her bairn,
Till Love Gregor come hame. |
| 5 |
'O gin I had a bony ship,
An men to sail wi me,
It's I would gang to my true-love,
Since he winna come to me.' |
| 6 |
Her father's gien her a bonny ship,
An sent her to the stran;
She's tane her young son in her arms,
An turnd her back to the lan. |
| 7 |
She had na been o the sea saillin
About a month or more,
Till landed has she her bonny ship
Near her true-love's door. |
| 8 |
The night was dark, an the win blew caul,
An her love was fast asleep,
An the bairn that was in her twa arms
Fu sair began to weep. |
| 9 |
Long stood she at her true-love's door,
An lang tirld at the pin;
At length up gat his fa'se mither,
Says, Wha's that woud be in? |
| 10 |
'O it is Anny of Roch-royal,
Your love, come oer the sea,
But an your young son in her arms;
So open the door to me.' |
| 11 |
'Awa, awa, you ill woman,
You've na come here for gude,
You're but a witch, or wile warlock,
Or mermaid o the flude.' |
| 12 |
'I'm na a witch, or wile warlock,
Nor mermaiden,' said she;
'I'm but Fair Anny o Roch-royal;
O open the door to me.' |
| 13 |
'O gin ye be Anny o Roch-royal,
As [I] trust not ye be,
What taiken can ye gie that ever
I kept your company?' |
| 14 |
'O dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,' she says,
'Whan we sat at the wine,
How we changed the napkins frae our necks,
It's na sae lang sin syne? |
| 15 |
'An yours was good, an good enough,
But nae sae good as mine;
For yours was o the cumbruk clear,
But mine was silk sae fine. |
| 16 |
'An dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,' she says,
'As we twa sat at dine,
How we changed the rings frae our fingers,
But ay the best was mine? |
| 17 |
'For yours was good, an good enough,
Yet nae sae good as mine;
For yours was of the good red gold,
But mine o the diamonds fine. |
| 18 |
'Sae open the door now, Love Gregor,
An open it wi speed,
Or your young son that is in my arms
For cauld will soon be dead.' |
| 19 |
'Awa, awa, you ill woman,
Gae frae my door for shame;
For I hae gotten another fair love,
Sae ye may hye you hame.' |
| 20 |
'O hae you gotten another fair love,
For a' the oaths you sware?
Then fair you well now, fa'se Gregor,
For me you's never see mair.' |
| 21 |
O heely, heely gi'd she back,
As the day began to peep;
She set her foot on good ship-board,
An sair, sair did she weep. |
| 22 |
Love Gregor started frae his sleep,
An to his mither did say,
I dreamd a dream this night, mither,
That maks my heart right wae. |
| 23 |
'I dreamd that Anny of Roch-royal,
The flowr o a' her kin,
Was standin mournin at my door,
But nane would lat her in.' |
| 24 |
'O there was a woman stood at the door,
Wi a bairn intill her arms,
But I woud na lat her within the bowr,
For fear she had done you harm.' |
| 25 |
O quickly, quickly raise he up,
An fast ran to the stran,
An there he saw her Fair Anny,
Was sailin frae the lan. |
| 26 |
An 'Heigh, Anny!' an 'Hou, Anny!
O Anny, speak to me!'
But ay the louder that he cried Anny,
The louder roard the sea. |
| 27 |
An 'Heigh, Anny!' an 'Hou, Anny!
O Anny, winna you bide?'
But ay the langer that he cried Anny,
The higher roard the tide. |
| 28 |
The win grew loud, an the sea grew rough,
An the ship was rent in twain,
An soon he saw her Fair Anny
Come floating oer the main. |
| 29 |
He saw his young son in her arms,
Baith tossd aboon the tide;
He wrang his hands, than fast he ran,
An plung'd i the sea sae wide. |
| 30 |
He catchd her by the yallow hair,
An drew her to the strand,
But cauld an stiff was every limb
Before he reachd the land. |
| 31 |
O first he kissd her cherry cheek,
An then he kissd her chin;
An sair he kissd her ruby lips,
But there was nae breath within. |
| 32 |
O he has mournd oer Fair Anny
Till the sun was gaing down,
Then wi a sigh his heart it brast,
An his soul to heaven has flown. |
