From a note-book of Dr. Joseph Robertson: "procured in
the parish of Forgue by A. Scott; communicated to me
by Mr. John Stuart, Aberdeen, 11 October, 1832."
| 1 |
It was in October the woe began —
It lasts for now and aye, —
The burning o the bonny house o fause Frendraught,
Lord John and Rothiemay. |
| 2 |
When they were in their saddles set,
And ready to ride away,
The lady sat down on her bare knees,
Beseeching them to stay. |
| 3 |
'Ye's hae a firlot o the gude red gowd,
Well straiket wi a wan;
And if that winna please you well,
I'll heap it wi my han.' |
| 4 |
Then out it spake the gude Lord John,
And said to Rothiemay,
'It is a waman that we're come o,
And a woman we'll obey.' |
| 5 |
When a' man was well drunken,
And a' man bound for bed,
The doors were lockd, the windows shut,
And the keys were casten by. |
| 6 |
When a' man was well drunken,
And a' man bound for sleep,
The dowy reek began to rise,
And the joists began to crack. |
| 7 |
He's deen him to the wire-window,
And ruefu strack and dang;
But they would neither bow nor brack,
The staunchions were so strang. |
| 8 |
He's deen him back and back again,
And back to Rothiemay;
Says, Waken, waken, brother dear!
Waken, Rothiemay! |
| 9 |
'Come let us praise the Lord our God,
The fiftieth psalm and three;
For the reek and smoke are us about,
And there's fause treason tee. |
| 10 |
'O mercy, mercy, Lady Frendraught!
As ye walk on the green:'
'The keys are in the deep draw-well,
The doors were lockt the streen.' |
| 11 |
'O woe be to you, Lady Frendraught!
And ill death may you die!
For think na ye this a sad torment
Your own flesh for to burn?' |
| 12 |
George Chalmers was a bonny boy;
He leapt the stanks so deep,
And he is on to Rothiemay,
His master for to help. |
| 13 |
Colin Irving was a bonny boy,
And leapt the stanks so deep:
'Come down, come down, my master dear!
In my arms I'll thee kep.' |
| 14 |
'Come down? come down? how can I come?
How can I come to thee?
My flesh is burning me about,
And yet my spirit speaks to thee.' |
| 15 |
He's taen a purse o the gude red gowd,
And threw it oer the wa:
'It's ye'll deal that among the poor,
Bid them pray for our souls a'.' |
| 16 |
He's taen the rings off his fingers,
And threw them oer the wa;
Says, Ye'll gie that to my lady dear,
From me she'll na get more. |
| 17 |
'Bid her make her bed well to the length,
But no more to the breadth,
For the day will never dawn
That I'll sleep by her side.' |
| 18 |
Ladie Rothiemay came on the morn,
She kneeled it roun and roun:
'Restore your lodgers, fause Frendraught,
That ye burnd here the streen. |
| 19 |
'O were I like yon trutle-dove,
Had I wings for to flie,
I'd fly about fause Frendraught
Crying vengeance till I die. |
| 20 |
'Frendraught fause, all thro the ha's,
Both back and every side;
For ye've betrayd the gay Gordons,
And lands wherein they ride. |
| 21 |
'Frendraught fause, all thro the ha's;
I wish you'd sink for sin;
For first you killd my own good lord,
And now you've burnd my son. |
| 22 |
'I caredna sae muckle for my good lord
I saw him in battle slain,
But a' is for my own son dear,
The heir o a' my lan. |
| 23 |
'I caredna sae muckle for my good lord
I saw him laid in clay,
But a' is for my own son dear,
The heir o Rothiemay.' |
