"Gin thou be Annie of Lochroyan, (As I trow thou binna she,) 70 Now tell me some o' the love tokens That past between thee and me."-- "O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings frae our fingers? 75 And I can show thee thine. "O yours was gude, and gude enough, But aye the best was mine; For yours was o' the gude red gowd, But mine o' the diamond fine. 80 "And has na thou mind, Lord Gregory, As we sat on the hill, Thou twin'd me o' my maidenheid Right sair against my will? "Now open the door, Lord Gregory! 85 Open the door, I pray! For thy young son is in my arms, And will be dead ere day."-- "If thou be the lass of Lochroyan, (As I kenna thou be,) 90 Tell me some mair o' the love tokens Past between me and thee." Fair Annie turn'd her round about-- "Weel! since that it be sae, May never a woman that has borne a son, 95 Hae a heart sae fou o' wae! "Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd! Set up a mast o' tree! It disna become a forsaken lady To sail sae royallie." 100 When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Then up and raise him Lord Gregory, And sair, sair did he weep. "Oh I hae dream'd a dream, mother, 105 I wish it may prove true! That the bonny Lass of Lochroyan Was at the yate e'en now. "O I hae dream'd a dream, mother, The thought o't gars me greet! 110 That fair Annie o' Lochroyan Lay cauld dead at my feet."-- "Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan That ye make a' this din, She stood a' last night at your door, 115 But I true 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." 120 O he's gane down to yon shore side As fast as he could fare; He saw fair Annie in the boat, But the wind it toss'd her sair. "And hey, Annie, and how, Annie! 125 O Annie, winna ye bide!" But aye the mair he cried Annie, The braider grew the tide. "And hey, Annie, and how, Annie! Dear Annie, speak to me!" 130 But aye the louder he cried Annie, The louder roar'd the sea. The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough, And dash'd the boat on shore; Fair Annie floated through the faem, 135 But the babie rose no more.