Skene Manuscript, p. 58; taken down in the North of Scotland,
1802-3.
| 1 |
The Earl of Aboyne he's careless an kin,
An he is new come frae London;
He sent his man him before,
To tell o his hame-comin. |
| 2 |
First she called on her chamberline,
Sin on Jeanie, her gentlewoman:
'Bring me a glass o the best claret win,
To drink my good lord's well-hame-comin. |
| 3 |
'My servants all, be ready at a call,
. . . .
. . . .
For the Lord of Aboyne is comin |
| 4 |
'My cooks all, be ready at a call
. . . .
Wi the very best of meat,
For the Lord of Aboyne is comin. |
| 5 |
'My maids all, be ready at a call,
. . . .
The rooms I've the best all to be dressd,
For the Lord af Aboyn is comin.' |
| 6 |
She did her to the closs to take him fra his horse,
An she welcomed him frae London:
. . . .
'Ye'r welcome, my good lord, frae London!' |
| 7 |
'An I be sae welcome, he says,
'Ye'll kiss me for my comin,
For the morn sud hae bin my weddin-day
Gif I had staid in London.' |
| 8 |
She turned her about wi a disdainfull look,
Dear, she was a pretty woman!
'Gif the morn shud hae bin yer weddin-day,
Ye may kiss your whores in London.' |
| 9 |
. . . .
. . . .
'So I shall, madam, an ye's hae na mare to sey,
For I'll dine wi the Marquis of Huntley.' |
| 10 |
She did her to his servant-man,
I wat they caed him Peter Gordon:
'Ye will ask my good lord if he will let me
Wi him a single mile to ride [to London].' |
| 11 |
'Ye need not, madam, . .
I have asked him already;
He will not let ye a single mile ride,
For he is to dine with the Marquis o Huntly.' |
| 12 |
She called on her chamber-maid,
Sin on Jean, her gentlewoman:
'Ge make my bed, an tye up my head,
Woe's me for his hame-comin!' |
| 13 |
She lived a year and day, wi mickle grief and wae,
The doctors were wi her dealin;
Within a crack, her heart it brack,
As the letters they went to London. |
| 14 |
He gae the table wi his foot,
An koupd it wi his knee,
Gared silver cup an easer dish
In flinders flee. |
| 15 |
. . . .
. . . .
'I wad I had lost a' the lands o Aboyne
Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.' |
| 16 |
He called on his best serving-man,
I wat the caed him Peter Gordon:
'Gae get our horses sadled wi speed,
Woe's me for our hame-comin! |
| 17 |
. . . .
. . . .
'For we will a' be in black, fra the hose to the hat,
Woe's me for bonny Margat Irvine! |
| 18 |
'We must to the North, to bury her corps,
Alas for our hame-comin!
I rather I had lost a' the lands o Aboyne
Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.' |
