The Countess of Erroll
THE EARL OF ERROL—C
[_]
Buchan's Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 176.
1
Erroll it's a bonny place,
It stands upon a plain;
A bad report this ladie's raisd,
That Erroll is nae a man.
2
But it fell ance upon a day
Lord Erroll went frae hame,
And he is on to the hunting gane,
Single man alane.
3
But he hadna been frae the town
A mile but barely twa,
Till his lady is on to Edinburgh,
To gain him at the law.
4
O Erroll he kent little o that
Till he sat down to dine,
And as he was at dinner set
His servant loot him ken.
5
‘Now saddle to me the black, the black,
Go saddle to me the brown,
And I will on to Edinburgh,
Her errands there to ken.’
6
She wasna well thro Aberdeen,
Nor passd the well o Spa,
Till Erroll he was after her,
The verity to shaw.
7
She wasna well in Edinburgh,
Nor even thro the town,
Till Erroll he was after her,
Her errands there to ken.
8
When he came to the court-house,
And lighted on the green,
This lord was there in time enough
To hear her thus compleen:
9
‘What needs me wash my apron,
Or drie't upon a door?
What needs I eek my petticoat,
Hings even down afore?
10
‘What needs me wash my apron,
Or hing it upon a pin?
For lang will I gang but and ben
Or I hear my young son's din.’
11
‘They ca you Kate Carnegie,’ he says,
‘And my name's Gilbert Hay;
I'll gar your father sell his land,
Your tocher down to pay.’
12
‘To gar my father sell his land
For that would be a sin,
To such a noughtless heir as you,
That canno get a son.’
13
Then out it speaks him Lord Brechen,
The best an lord ava;
‘I never saw a lady come
Wi sic matters to the law.’
14
Then out it speaks another lord,
The best in a' the town;
‘Ye'll wyle out fifeteen maidens bright
Before Lord Erroll come:’
And he has chosen a tapster lass,
And Meggie was her name.
15
They kept up this fair maiden
Three quarters of a year,
And then at that three quarters' end
A young son she did bear.
16
They hae gien to Meggie then
Five ploughs but and a mill,
And they hae gien her five hundred pounds,
For to bring up her chill.
17
There was no lord in Edinburgh
But to Meggie gae a ring;
And there was na a boy in a' the town
But on Katie had a sang.
18
‘Kinnaird, take hame your daughter,
And set her to the glen,
For Erroll canna pleasure her,
Nor nane o Erroll's men.’
19
Seven years on Erroll's table
There stand clean dish and speen,
And every day the bell is rung,
Cries, Lady, come and dine.
