Christie's Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 136, from the recitation
of an old woman in Buckie, Enzie, Banffshire.
| 1 |
A featherd fowl's in your orchard, father,
O dear, but it sings sweet!
What would I give, my father dear,
That bonnie bird to meet!'
What would I give, etc. |
| 2 |
'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
Let a' your folly be;
There's six Scots lords tomorrow, child,
That will a' dine wi me,
And ye maun serve tham a', Mary,
As 'twere for meat and fee.' |
| 3 |
She served them up, sae has she down,
The footmen a' the same,
But her mind was aye on Love Robbie,
Stood out below the rain. |
| 4 |
A hundred pun o pennies roun,
Tied in a towel so sma,
She has gien to him Love Robbie,
Out oer the castle-wa;
Says, Tak ye that, my love Robbie
And mysel ye may hae. |
| 5 |
A hundred pun o pennies roun,
Tied in a napkin white,
She has gien to him Love Robbie,
Out oer the garden-dyke;
Says, Tak ye that, my Love Robbie,
And mysel gin ye like. |
| 6 |
'If this be true ye tell to me,
As your tongue woudna lee,
I shall be in your bigly bower
Before the clock strike three;
I shall be in your bigly bower,
Dressd like a gay ladye.' |
| 7 |
When bells were rung, and mass was sung,
And all men bound for bed,
Love Robbie came to Mary's bower,
Dressd like a comely maid. |
| 8 |
They had not kissd nor love clapp d,
As lovers when they meet,
Till sighing said he Love Robbie,
My life, my life I doubt. |
| 9 |
'Your life, your life, you Love Robbie,
Your life you needna doubt;
For it was wiles brought in Robbie,
And wiles will lat him out.' |
| 10 |
Then in it came her father dear,
And stood upon the floor,
And she filld the cup of good red wine,
Said, Father, will ye drink more? |
| 11 |
'O better I love the cup, Mary,
The cup that's in your hand,
Than all my barrels full of wine,
On the gantrees where they stand.' |
| 12 |
'O woe be to your wine, father,
It eer came oer the sea!
If I getna the air o good greenwood
O I will surely dee.' |
| 13 |
'There's seven maries in your bower,
There's seven o them and three,
And I'll send them to good greenwood,
For flowers to shortsome thee.' |
| 14 |
'There's seven maries in my bower,
There's seven o them and three,
But there's nae a mary mang them a'
Can pu flowers to shortsome me:'
'Then by my sooth,' said her father dear,
'Let yoursel gang them wi.' |
| 15 |
She dressd hersel in the royal red,
Love Robbie was in dainty green;
Love Robbie's brand was about his middle,
And he shone like ony queen. |
| 16 |
The firsten ane that took the floor,
Love Robbie was that ane:
'Now by my sooth,' said the proud porter,
'She is a sonsie dame;
I would not care now very much
To turn her in again.' |
| 17 |
'I'd fain see any woman or man,
Of high or low degree,
Would turn a mary in again
That once came out with me.' |
| 18 |
They had not been in good greenwood,
Pu'd a flower but only three,
Till the porter stood behind a bush,
And shot him Love Robbie. |
| 19 |
Now word has come to her father dear,
In the chamber where he lay,
Lady Mary's sick in good greenwood,
And cannot come away. |
| 20 |
He's taen his mantle him about,
His cane into his han,
And he is on to good greenwood,
As fast as he could gang. |
| 21 |
'O want you fish out o the fleed,
Or whale out o the sea?
Or is there any one alive
This day has angerd thee?' |
| 22 |
'I want not fish out o the fleed,
Nor whale out o the sea;
But woe be to your proud porter,
Sae sair's he's angerd me!
He's shot the fairest flower this day,
That would hae comfort me.' |
| 23 |
'O hold your tongue, my daughter Mary,
Let a' your folly be;
Tomorrow ere I eat or drink
High hang d shall he be.' |
