Love Gregory
THE LASS OF ROCH ROYAL—G
[_]
Buchan's MSS. II, 149; Buchan's Ballads of the North
of Scotland, II, 198.
1
It fell on a Wodensday,
Love Gregory's taen the sea,
And he has left his lady Janet,
And a weary woman was she.
2
But she had na been in child-bed
A day but barely three,
Till word has come to Lady Janet
Love Gregory she would never see.
3
She's taen her mantle her middle about,
Her cane into her hand,
And she's awa to the salt-sea side,
As fast as she could gang.
4
‘Whare will I get a curious carpenter,
Will make a boat to me?
I'm going to seek him Love Gregory,
In's lands where eer he be.’
5
‘Here am I, a curious carpenter,
Will make a boat for thee,
And ye may seek him Love Gregory,
But him ye'll never see.’
6
She sailed up, she sailed down,
Thro many a pretty stream,
Till she came to that stately castle,
Where Love Gregory lay in.
7
‘Open, open, Love Gregory,
O open, and lat me in;
Your young son is in my arms,
And shivering cheek and chin.’
8
‘Had awa, ye ill woman,
Had far awa frae me;
Ye're but some witch, or some warlock,
Or the mermaid, troubling me.
9
‘My lady she's in Lochranline,
Down by Lochlearn's green;
This day she wadna sail the sea,
For goud nor warld's gain.
10
‘But if ye be my lady Janet,
As I trust not well ye be,
Come tell me oer some love-token
That past 'tween thee an me.’
11
‘Mind on, mind on now, Love Gregory,
Since we sat at the wine;
The rings that were on your fingers,
I gied thee mine for thine.
12
‘And mine was o the good red goud,
Yours o the silly tin,
And mine's been true, and very true,
But yours had a fause lynin.
13
‘But open, open, Love Gregory,
Open, and let me in;
Your young son is in my arms,
He'll be dead ere I win in.’
14
‘Had awa, ye ill woman,
Had far awa frae me;
Ye're but some witch, or some warlock,
Or the mermaid, troubling me.
15
‘But if ye be my lady Janet,
As I trust not well ye be;
Come tell me o'er some love-token
That past tween thee and me.’
16
‘Mind on, mind on, Love Gregory,
Since we sat at the wine;
The shifts that were upon your back,
I gave thee mine for thine.
17
‘And mine was o the good holland,
And yours o the silly twine,
And mine's been true, and very true,
But yours had fause lynin.’
[OMITTED]
