4 ‘Tak from me my silken cloak, And bring me down my plaidie; For it is gude eneuch,’ she said, ‘To follow a Gipsy Davy. 5 ‘Yestreen I rode this water deep, And my gude lord beside me; But this nicht I maun set in my pretty fit and wade, A wheen blackguards wading wi me. 6 ‘Yestreen I lay in a fine feather-bed, And my gude lord beyond me; But this nicht I maun lye in some cauld tenant’s-barn, A wheen blackguards waiting on me.’ 7 ‘Come to thy bed, my bonny Jeanie Faw, Come to thy bed, my dearie, For I do swear, by the top o my spear, Thy gude lord’ll nae mair come near thee.’ 8 When her good lord cam hame at nicht, It was asking for his fair ladye; One spak slow, and another whisperd out, ‘She’s awa wi Gipsey Davy!’ 9 ‘Come saddle to me my horse,’ he said, ‘Come saddle and mak him readie! For I’ll neither sleep, eat, nor drink Till I find out my lady.’ 10 They socht her up, they socht her doun, They socht her thro nations many, Till at length they found her out in Abbey dale, Drinking wi Gipsey Davy. 11 ‘Rise, oh rise, my bonnie Jeanie Faw, Oh rise, and do not tarry! Is this the thing ye promised to me When at first I did thee marry?’ 12 They drank her cloak, so did they her goun, They drank her stockings and her shoon, And they drank the coat that was nigh to her smock, And they pawned her pearled apron. 13 They were sixteen clever men, Suppose they were na bonny; They are a’ to be hangd on ae tree, For the stealing o Earl Cassilis’ lady. 14 ‘We are sixteen clever men, One woman was a’ our mother; We are a’ to be hanged on ae day, For the stealing of a wanton lady.’ * * * * * D Kinloch MSS, V, 331, in the handwriting of John Hill Burton; from a reciter who came from the vicinity of Craigievar. 1 There came Gyptians to Corse Field yeats, Black, tho they warna bonny; They danced so neat and they danced so fine, Till down came the bonny lady. 2 She came trippin down the stair, And her nine maidens afore her; But up and starts him Johny Fa, And he cast the glamour oer her. 3 ‘Ye’ll take frae me this gay mantle, And ye’ll gie to me a plaidie; For I shall follow Johny Fa, Lat weel or woe betide me.’ 4 They’ve taen frae her her fine mantle, And they’ve gaen to her a plaidie, And she’s awa wi Johny Fa, Whatever may betide her. 5 When they came to a wan water, I wite it wasna bonny, . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6 ‘Yestreen I wade this wan water, And my good lord was wi me; The night I man cast aff my shoes and wide, And the black bands widen wi me.