Kinloch Manuscripts, V, 399, in the handwriting of John Hill
Burton.
| * |
* * *
'YE'LL stay this night wi me, Lord John,
Ye'll stay this night wi me,
For there is appearence of good greement
Betwixt Frendraught and thee.' |
| 2 |
'How can I bide, or how shall I bide,
Or how can I bide wi thee,
Sin my lady is in the lands of Air,
And I long till I her see?' |
| 3 |
'Oh stay this night wi me, Lord John,
Oh stay this night wi me,
And bonny ['s] be the morning-gift
That I will to you gie. |
| 4 |
'I'll gie you a Strathboggie lands,
And the laigh lands o Strathray,
. . . . .
. . . . . |
| 5 |
'Ye'll saty this night wi me, Lord John,
Ye'll stay this night wi me,
And I'll lay you in a bed of down,
And Rothiemay you wi.' |
| 6 |
When mass was sung, and bells were rung,
And a' men bun to bed,
Gude Lord John and Rothiemay
In one chamber were laid.
* * * * * |
| 7 |
Out hes he taen his little psalm-buik,
And verses sang he three,
And aye at every verse's end,
'God end our misery!' |
| 8 |
The doors were shut, the keys were thrown
Into a vault of stone,
. . . . .
. . . . . |
| 9 |
He is dune him to the weir-window,
The stauncheons were oer strong;
There he saw him Lord George Gordon
Come haisling to the town. |
| 10 |
'What news, what news now, George Gordon?
Whats news hae you to me?
. . . . .
. . . . . |
| 11 |
He's dune him to the weir-window,
The stauncheons were oer strang;
And there he saw the Lady Frendraught,
Was walking on the green. |
| 12 |
'Open yer doors now, Lady Frendraught,
Ye'll open yer doors to me;
And bonny's be the mornin-gift
That I shall to you gie. |
| 13 |
'I'll gie you a' Straboggie lands,
And the laigh lands o Strathbrae,
. . . . .
. . . . . |
| 14 |
'Now there's the rings frae my fingers,
And the broach frae my breast-bone;
Ye'll gae that to my gude ladye
. . . . .
* * * * * |
| 15 |
'How can I loup, or how shall I loup?
How can I loup to thee?
When the blood is boiling in my body,
And my feet burnin frae me?'
* * * * * |
| 16 |
'If I was swift as any swallow,
And then had wings to fly,
I could fly on to fause Frendraught
And cry vengeance till I die.' |
