Herd's Manuscripts, I, 164, II, 58.
| 1 |
The gallant laird of Lamington
Cam frae the North Countree
To court a gallant gay lady,
And wi presents entered he. |
| 2 |
He neither stood for gould nor gear —
For she was a well-fared may —
And whan he got her friends' consent
He set the wedding-day. |
| 3 |
She's sent unto her first fere love,
Gin he would come to see,
And he has sent word back again
Weel answered should she be. |
| 4 |
He has sent a messenger
Right quietly throe the land,
Wi mony armed men,
To be at his command. |
| 5 |
The bridegroom looked out at a high window,
Beheld baith dool and doon,
And there he spied her first fere love,
Come riding to the toun. |
| 6 |
She scoffed and she scorned him,
Upo the wedding-day,
And said it had been the Fairy Court
That he had seen in array. |
| 7 |
But as he sat at yon table-head,
Amo yon gentlemen,
And he began to speak some words
That na ane there could ken. |
| 8 |
'There is a lass into this town —
She is a weel-far'd may —
She is another man's bride today,
But she'll play him foul play.' |
| 9 |
Up did start the bonny bridegroom,
His hat into his hand,
. . . .
. . . |
| 10 |
'O came you here, young man, to fight?
Or came you here to flee?
Or cam you here to drink good wine,
And be good company?' |
| 11 |
They filled a cup o good red wine,
Drunk out between them twa:
'For one dance wi your bonny bride,
I shall gae hame my wa.' |
| 12 |
He's taen her by the milk-white hand,
And by the grass-green sleeve,
He's mounted her high behind himself,
At her kin's speired nae leave. |
| 13 |
Now . . .
And swords flew in the skies,
And droop and drowsie was the blood
Ran our yon lilly braes. |
| 14 |
The blood ran our the lilly bank,
And our the lilly brae,
And sighing said the bonny bride,
'A, wae's me for foul play!' |
| 15 |
'My blessing on your heart, sweet thing,
Wae to your wilfu will!
So many a gallant gentleman's blood
This day as ye've garred spill. |
| 16 |
'But a' you that is norland men,
If you be norland born,
Come never south to wed a bryde,
For they'll play you the scorn. |
| 17 |
'They will play you the scorn
Upo your wedding-day,
And gie you frogs instead o fish,
And do you foul, foul play.' |
