Her father's gi'en her a bonny ship, And sent her to the strand; She's ta'en her young son in her arms, And turn'd her back to land. She hadna been on the sea sailing, About a month or more, Till landed has she her bonny ship, Near to her true love's door. The night was dark, an' the wind was cauld, And her love was fast asleep, And the bairn that was in her twa arms, Fu' sair began to greet. Lang stood she at her true love's door And lang tirl'd at the pin; At length up gat his fause mother, Says, "Wha's that wad be in?" "O it is Annie of Lochroyan, Your love, come o'er the sea, But and your young son in her arms, Sae open the door to me." "Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Ye're nae come here for gude; Ye're but a witch, or a vile warlock, Or mermaiden o' the flood!" "I'm nae a witch, nor vile warlock, Nor mermaiden," said she; "But I am Annie of Lochroyan; O open the door to me!" "O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trow not you be, Now tell me some o' the love-tokens That pass'd 'tween thee and me." "O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, When we sate at the wine, How we chang'd the napkins frae our necks, It's no sae lang sinsyne? "And yours was gude, and gude eneugh, But nae sae gude as mine; For yours was o' the cambrick clear, But mine o' the silk sae fine. "And dinna ye mind, love Gregory, As we twa sate at dine, How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers, And I can show thee thine? "And yours was gude, and gude eneugh, Yet nae sae gude as mine; For yours was o' the gude red gold, But mine o' the diamonds fine. "Sae open the door, love Gregory, And open it wi' speed; Or your young son, that is in my arms, For cauld will soon be dead!" "Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Gae frae my door for shame; For I hae gotten anither fair love, Sae ye may hie ye hame!" "O hae ye gotten anither fair love, For a' the oaths ye sware? Then fare ye weel, fause Gregory, For me ye'se never see mair!" O hooly, hooly gaed she back, As the day began to peep; She set her foot on gude ship board, And sair, sair did she weep. "Tak down, tak down that mast o' gowd, Set up the mast o' tree; Ill sets it a forsaken lady To sail sae gallantlie!" Love Gregory started frae his sleep, And to his mother did say; "I dream'd a dream this night, mither, That maks my heart right wae. "I dream'd that Annie of Lochroyan, The flower of a' her kin, Was standing mournin' at iny door, But nane wad let her in." "Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan, That ye mak a' this din; She stood a' last night at your door, But I trow she wan na in!" "O wae betide ye, ill woman! An ill deid may ye die, That wadna open the door to her, Nor yet wad waken me!" O quickly, quickly raise he up, And fast ran to the strand; And then he saw her, fair Annie, Was sailing frae the land. And it's "Hey Annie!" and "How Annie! O Annie, winna ye bide?" But aye the mair that he cried "Annie!" The faster ran the tide.