The English and Scottish Popular Ballads :: :: University of Virginia Library

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 woman 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!
An 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 turtle-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.’