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And fades away like morning dew.

O wherefore should I busk my head,
O wherefore should I kame my hair,

For my true love has me forsook,
And says he'll never love me mair.

Now Arthur's Seat shall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne'er be pressed by me,

St. Anton's well shall be my drink,
Since my true love has forsaken me.

Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves off the tree!

O gentle Death, when wilt thou come?
For of my life I am wearie!

'Tis not the frost that freezes fell,
Nor blawing snaw's inclemencie,

'Tis not sic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart's grown cauld to me.

When we came in by Glasgow toun
We were a comely sicht to see;

My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I mysel in cramasie.

But had I wist before I kist
That love had been sae ill to win,

I'd locked my heart in a case of gold,
And pinned it wi' a siller pin.

Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
And set upon the nurse's knee;

And I myself were dead and gane,
And the green grass growing over me!

Ballad: Love Gregor; Or, The Lass Of Lochroyan
(Child, Part III., p. 220.)

"O wha will shoe my fu' fair foot?
And wha will glove my hand?

And wha will lace my middle jimp,
Wi' the new-made London band?

"And wha will kaim my yellow hair,
Wi' the new made silver kaim?

And wha will father my young son,
Till Love Gregor come hame?"

"Your father will shoe your fu' fair foot,
Your mother will glove your hand;

Your sister will lace your middle jimp
Wi' the new-made London band.

"Your brother will kaim your yellow hair,
Wi' the new made silver kaim;

And the king of heaven will father your bairn,
Till Love Gregor come haim."

"But I will get a bonny boat,
And I will sail the sea,

For I maun gang to Love Gregor,
Since he canno come hame to me."

O she has gotten a bonny boat,
And sailld the sa't sea fame;

She langd to see her ain true-love,
Since he could no come hame.

"O row your boat, my mariners,
And bring me to the land,

For yonder I see my love's castle,
Close by the sa't sea strand."

She has ta'en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gone,

And lang she's knocked and sair she ca'd,
But answer got she none.

"O open the door, Love Gregor," she says,
"O open, and let me in;

For the wind blaws thro' my yellow hair,
And the rain draps o'er my chin."

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
You'r nae come here for good;

You'r but some witch, or wile warlock,
Or mer-maid of the flood."

"I am neither a witch nor a wile warlock,
Nor mer-maid of the sea,

I am Fair Annie of Rough Royal;
O open the door to me."

"Gin ye be Annie of Rough Royal -
And I trust ye are not she -

Now tell me some of the love-tokens
That past between you and me."

"O dinna you mind now, Love Gregor,
When we sat at the wine,

How we changed the rings frae our fingers?
And I can show thee thine.

"O yours was good, and good enough,
But ay the best was mine;

For yours was o' the good red goud,
But mine o' the diamonds fine.

"But open the door now, Love Gregor,
O open the door I pray,

For your young son that is in my arms
Will be dead ere it be day."

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman,
For here ye shanno win in;

Gae drown ye in the raging sea,
Or hang on the gallows-pin."

When the cock had crawn, and day did dawn,
And the sun began to peep,

Then up he rose him, Love Gregor,
And sair, sair did he weep.

"O I dreamd a dream, my mother dear,
The thoughts o' it gars me greet,

That Fair Annie of Rough Royal
Lay cauld dead at my feet."

"Gin it be for Annie of Rough Royal
That ye make a' this din,

She stood a' last night at this door,
But I trow she wan no in."

"O wae betide ye, ill woman,
An ill dead may ye die!

That ye woudno open the door to her,
Nor yet woud waken me."

O he has gone down to yon shore-side,
As fast as he could fare;

He saw Fair Annie in her boat,
But the wind it tossd her sair.

And "Hey, Annie!" and "How, Annie!
O Annie, winna ye bide?"

But ay the mair that he cried "Annie,"
The braider grew the tide.

And "Hey, Annie!" and "How, Annie!
Dear Annie, speak to me!"

But ay the louder he cried "Annie,"
The louder roard the sea.

The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough,
And dashd the boat on shore;

Fair Annie floats on the raging sea,
But her young son rose no more.

Love Gregor tare his yellow hair,
And made a heavy moan;

Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,
But his bonny young son was gone.

O cherry, cherry was her cheek,
And gowden was her hair,

But clay cold were her rosey lips,
Nae spark of life was there,

And first he's kissd her cherry cheek,
And neist he's kissed her chin;

And saftly pressd her rosey lips,
But there was nae breath within.

"O wae betide my cruel mother,
And an ill dead may she die!

For she turnd my true-love frae my door,
When she came sae far to me."

Ballad: The Queen's Marie
(Child, vi., Border Minstrelsy.)

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons in her hair;

The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than ony that were there.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi ribbons on her breast;

The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than he listend to the priest.

Marie Hamilton's to the kirk gane,
Wi gloves upon her hands;

The king thought mair o Marie Hamilton,
Than the queen and a' her lands.

She hadna been about the king's court
A month, but barely one,

Till she was beloved by a' the king's court,
And the king the only man.

She hadna been about the king's court
A month, but barely three,

Till frae the king's court Marie Hamilton,
Marie Hamilton durst na be.

The king is to the Abbey gane,
To pu the Abbey tree,

To scale the babe frae Marie's heart;
But the thing it wadna be.

O she has rowd it in her apron,
And set it on the sea:

"Gae sink ye, or swim ye, bonny babe,
Ye's get na mair o me."

Word is to the kitchen gane,
And word is to the ha,

And word is to the noble room,
Amang the ladyes a',

That Marie Hamilton's brought to bed,
And the bonny babe's mist and awa.

Scarcely had she lain down again,
And scarcely faen asleep,

When up then started our gude queen,
Just at her bed-feet,

Saying "Marie Hamilton, where's your babe?
For I am sure I heard it greet."

"O no, O no, my noble queen!
Think no such thing to be!

'Twas but a stitch into my side,
And sair it troubles me."

"Get up, get up, Marie Hamilton,
Get up, and follow me,

For I am going to Edinburgh town,
A rich wedding for to see."

O slowly, slowly raise she up,
And slowly put she on;

And slowly rode she out the way,
Wi mony a weary groan.

The queen was clad in scarlet,
Her merry maids all in green;

And every town that they cam to,
They took Marie for the queen.



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