'Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trow thou binna she, Now tell me of some love-tokens That pass'd 'tween thee and me.' 'O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings frae our fingers? And I can shew thee thine. 'O yours was gude, and gude enough, But ay the best was mine, For yours was o' the gude red gowd, But mine o' the diamond fine. 'Yours was o' the gude red gowd, Mine o' the diamond fine; Mine was o' the purest troth, But thine was false within.' 'If ye be the lass of Lochroyan, As I kenna thou be, Tell me some mair o' the love-tokens Pass'd between thee and me.' 'And dinna ye mind, love Gregory! As we sat on the hill, Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheid, Right sair against my will? 'Now open the door, love Gregory! Open the door! I pray; For thy young son is in my arms, And will be dead ere day.' 'Ye lie, ye lie, ye ill woman, So loud I hear ye lie; For Annie of the Lochroyan Is far out-owre the sea.' Fair Annie turn'd her round about: 'Weel, sine that it be sae, May ne'er woman that has borne a son Hae a heart sae fu' o' wae! 'Tak down, tak down that mast o' gowd, Set up a mast of tree; It disna become a forsaken lady To sail sae royallie.' When the cock has crawn, and the day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Up than raise Lord Gregory, And sair, sair did he weep. 'O I hae dream'd a dream, mither, I wish it may bring good! That the bonny lass of Lochroyan At my bower window stood. 'O I hae dream'd a dream, mither, The thought o't gars me greet! That fair Annie of Lochroyan Lay dead at my bed-feet.' 'Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan That ye mak a' this mane, She stood last night at your bower-door, But I hae sent her hame.' 'O wae betide ye, ill woman, An ill death may ye die! That wadna open the door yoursell Nor yet wad waken me.' O he 's gane down to yon shore-side, As fast as he could dree, And there he saw fair Annie's bark A rowing owre the sea. 'O Annie, Annie,' loud he cried, 'O Annie, O Annie, bide!' But ay the mair he cried 'Annie,' The braider grew the tide. 'O Annie, Annie, dear Annie, Dear Annie, speak to me!' But ay the louder he gan call, The louder roar'd the sea. The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie And dash'd the boat on shore; Fair Annie's corpse was in the faem, The babe rose never more. Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks And made a wafu' moan; Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet, His bonny son was gone. 'O cherry, cherry was her cheek, And gowden was her hair, And coral, coral was her lips, Nane might with her compare.' Then first he kiss'd her pale, pale cheek, And syne he kiss'd her chin, And syne he kiss'd her wane, wane lips, There was na breath within. 'O wae betide my ill mither, An ill death may she die! She turn'd my true-love frae my door, Who cam so far to me.