Ballads, English -- England -- Texts; Ballads, Scots -- Scotland -- Texts
The hills were high on ilka side, 5
An' the bought i' the lirk o' the hill,
And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang,
Out o'er the head o' yon hill.
There was a troup o' gentlemen
Came riding merrilie by, 10
And one of them has rode out o' the way,
To the bought to the bonny may.
"Weel may ye save an' see, bonny lass,
An' weel may ye save an' see."--
"An' sae wi' you, ye weel-bred knight, 15
And what's your will wi' me?"--
"The night is misty and mirk, fair may,
And I have ridden astray,
And will you be so kind, fair may,
As come out and point my way?"-- 20
"Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider!
Your steed's baith stout and strang;
For out of the bought I dare na come,
For fear 'at ye do me wrang."--
"O winna ye pity me, bonny lass, 25
O winna ye pity me?
An' winna ye pity my poor steed,
Stands trembling at yon tree?"--
"I wadna pity your poor steed,
Though it were tied to a thorn; 30
For if ye wad gain my love the night,
Ye wad slight me ere the morn.
"For I ken you by your weel-busket hat,
And your merrie twinkling ee,
That ye're the Laird o' the Oakland hills, 35
An' ye may weel seem for to be."--
"But I am not the Laird o' the Oakland hills,
Ye're far mista'en o' me;
But I'm ane o' the men about his house,
An' right aft in his companie."-- 40
He's ta'en her by the middle jimp,
And by the grass-green sleeve;
He's lifted her over the fauld-dyke,
And speer'd at her sma' leave.
O he's ta'en out a purse o' gowd, 45
And streek'd her yellow hair;
"Now, take ye that, my bonny may,
Of me till you hear mair."--
O he's leapt on his berry-brown steed,
An' soon he's o'erta'en his men; 50
And ane and a' cried out to him,
"O master, ye've tarry'd lang!"--
"O I hae been east, and I hae been west,
An' I hae been far o'er the knowes,
But the bonniest lass that ever I saw 55
Is i' the bought, milking the ewes."--
She set the cog upon her head,
An' she's gane singing hame;
"O where hae ye been, my ae daughter?
Ye hae na been your lane."-- 60
"O naebody was wi' me, father,
O naebody has been wi' me;
The night is misty and mirk, father,
Yee may gang to the door and see.
"But wae be to your ewe-herd, father, 65
And an ill deed may he die;
He bug the bought at the back o' the knowe,
And a tod has frighted me.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account