English and Scottish Ballads, Volume II

Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts

The nicht was dark, and the wind blew cald,
      And her love was fast asleep,                                   30
    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,                                35
      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;
      So open the door to me."                                        40

    "Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
      You're nae come here for gude;
    You're but a witch, or a vile warlock,
      Or mermaid o' the flude."

    "I'm nae a witch or vile warlock,                                 45
      Or mermaiden," said she;--
    "I'm but your Annie of Lochroyan;--
      O open the door to me!"

    "O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan,
      As I trust not ye be,                                           50
    What taiken can ye gie that e'er
      I kept your companie?"

    "O dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,
      "Whan we sat at the wine,
    How we changed the napkins frae our necks?                        55
      It's nae sae lang sinsyne.

    "And yours was gude, and gude enough,
      But nae sae gude as mine;
    For yours was o' the cambrick clear,
      But mine o' the silk sae fine.                                  60

    "And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says,
      "As we twa sat at dine,
    How we chang'd the rings frae our fingers,
      And I can shew thee thine:

    "And yours was gude, and gude enough,                             65
      Yet nae sae gude as mine;
    For yours was o' the gude red gold,
      But mine o' the diamonds fine.

    "Sae open the door, now, love Gregor,
      And open it wi' speed;                                          70
    Or your young son, that is in my arms,
      For cald will soon be dead."

    "Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
      Gae frae my door for shame;
    For I hae gotten anither fair love,                               75
      Sae ye may hie you hame."

    "O hae ye gotten anither fair love,
      For a' the oaths ye sware?
    Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor;
      For me ye's never see mair!"                                    80

    O hooly, hooly gaed she back,
      As the day began to peep;
    She set her foot on good ship board,
      And sair, sair did she weep.

    "Tak down, tak down the mast o' goud;                             85
      Set up the mast o' tree;
    Ill sets it a forsaken lady
      To sail sae gallantlie.

    "Tak down, tak down the sails o' silk;
      Set up the sails o' skin;                                       90
    Ill sets the outside to be gay,
      Whan there's sic grief within!"

Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.

English and Scottish Ballads, Volume II

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