The English and Scottish Popular Ballads Edited by Francis James Child. |
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 | The English and Scottish Popular Ballads |  |
Lord Gregory
THE LASS OF ROCH ROYAL—C
[OMITTED]1
She sailed west, she sailed east,She sailed mony a mile,
Until she cam to Lord Gregor's yett,
And she tirled at the pin.
2
‘It's open, open, Lord Gregory,Open, and let me in;
For the rain drops on my gouden hair,
And drops upon your son.’
3
‘Are you the Queen of Queensberry?Or one of the marys three?
Or are you the lass of Ruchlaw hill,
Seeking Lord Gregory?’
4
‘I'm not the Queen of Queensberry,Nor one of the marys three;
But I am the bonny lass of Ruchlawhill,
Seeking Lord Gregory.’
5
‘Awa, awa, ye fause thief,I will not open to thee
Till you tell me the first token
That was tween you and me.’
6
‘Do not you mind, Lord Gregory,When we birled at the wine,
We changed the rings of our fingers,
And ay the best was mine?
7
‘For mine was true and trusty goud,But yours it was of tin;
Mine was of the true and trusty goud,
But yours was fause within.’
8
She turned about her bonny ship,Awa then did she sail:
‘The sun shall never shine on man
That made my heart so sare.’
9
Then up the old mother she got,And wakened Lord Gregory:
‘Awa, awa, ye fause gudeson,
A limmer was seeking thee.’
10
‘It's woe be to you, witch-mother,An ill death may you die!
For you might hae set the yet open,
And then hae wakened me.’
11
It's up he got, and put on his clothes,And to the yet he ran;
The first sight of the ship he saw,
He whistled and he sang.
12
But whan the bonny ship was out o sight,He clapped his hands and ran,
[OMITTED]
[OMITTED]
13
The first kirktoun he cam to,He heard the death-bell ring,
The second kirktoun he cam to,
He saw her corpse come in.
14
‘Set down, set down this bonny corpse,That I may look upon;
If she died late for me last night,
I'll die for her the morn.
15
‘Be merry, merry, gentlemen,Be merry at the bread and wine;
For by the morn at this time o day
You'll drink as much at mine.’
16
The one was buried in Mary's isle,The other in Mary's quire;
Out of the one there grew a thorn,
And out of the other a brier.
17
And aye they grew, and aye they blew,Till their twa taps did meet;
And every one that passed thereby
Might see they were lovers sweet.
| The English and Scottish Popular Ballads | |