| 1 |
The eighteenth of October,
A dismal tale to hear
How good Lord John and Rothiemay
Was both burnt in the fire. |
| 2 |
When steeds was saddled and well bridled,
And ready for to ride,
Then out it came her false Frendraught,
Inviting them to bide. |
| 3 |
Said, 'Stay this night untill we sup,
The morn untill we dine;
'twill be a token of good greement
'twixt your good lord and mine.' |
| 4 |
'We'll turn again,' said good Lord John;
'But no,' said Rothiemay,
'My steed's trapand, my bridle's broken,
I fear the day I'm fey.' |
| 5 |
When mass was sung, and bells was rung,
And all men bound for bed,
Then good Lord John and Rothiemay
In one chamber was laid. |
| 6 |
They had not long cast off their cloaths,
And were but now asleep,
When the weary smoke began to rise,
Likewise the scorching heat. |
| 7 |
'O waken, waken, Rothiemay!
O waken, brother dear!
And turn you to our Saviour;
There is strong treason here.' |
| 8 |
When they were dressed in their cloaths,
And ready for to boun,
The doors and windows was all secur'd,
The roof-tree burning down. |
| 9 |
He did him to the wire-window,
As fast as we could gang;
Says, Wae to the hands put in the stancheons!
For out we'll never win. |
| 10 |
When he stood at the wire-window,
Most doleful to be seen,
He did espy her Lady Frendraught,
Who stood upon the green. |
| 11 |
Cried, Mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!
Will ye not sink with sin?
For first your husband killed my father,
And now you burn his son. |
| 12 |
O then out spoke her Lady Frendraught,
And loudly did she cry;
'It were grteat pity for good Lord John,
But none for Rothiemay;
But the keys are casten in the deep draw-well,
Ye cannot get away.' |
| 13 |
While he stood in this dreadful plight,
Most piteous to be seen,
There called out his servant Gordon,
As he had frantic been: |
| 14 |
'O loup, O loup, my dear master!
O loup and come to me!
I'll catch you in my arms two,
One foot I will not flee. |
| 15 |
'O loup, O loup, my dear master!
O loup and come away!
I'll catch you in my arms two,
But Rothiemay may lie.' |
| 16 |
'The fish shall never swim in the flood,
Nor corn grow through the clay,
Nor the fiercest fire that ever was kindled
Twin me and Rothiemay. |
| 17 |
'But I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot win to thee;
My head's fast in the wire-window,
My feet burning from me. |
| 18 |
'My eyes are seething in my head,
My flesh roasting also,
My bowels are boiling with my blood;
Is not that a woeful woe? |
| 19 |
'Take here the rings from my white fingers,
That are so long and small,
And give them to my lady fair,
Where she sits in her hall. |
| 20 |
'So I cannot loup, I cannot come,
I cannot loup to thee;
My earthly part is all consumed,
My spirit but speaks to thee.' |
| 21 |
Wringing her hands, tearing her hair,
His lady she was seen,
And thus addressed his servant Gordon,
Where he stood on the green. |
| 22 |
'O wae be to you, George Gordon!
An ill death may you die!
So safe and sound as you stnad there,
And my lord bereaved from me.' |
| 23 |
'I bad him loup, I bad him come,
I bad him loup to me;
I'd catch him in my arms two,
A foot I should not flee. &c. |
| 24 |
'He threw me the rings from his white fingers,
Which were so long and small,
To give to you, his lady fair,
Where you sat in your hall.' &c. |
| 25 |
Sophia Hay, Sophia Hay,
O bonny Sophia was her name,
Her waiting maid put on her cloaths,
But I wot she tore them off again. |
| 26 |
And aft she cried, Ohon! alas! alas!
A sair heart's ill to win;
I wan a sair heart when I married him,
And the day it's well returnd again. |
