Chapter XXVI: Appendix (2)

As to #A a# 2^{1,2}, #b# 1, #B# 2^{1,2}, see note [B] to the preceding ballad, p. 339.

* * * * *

A

#a.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 133, 1828. #b.#
Maidment’s North Countrie Garland, p. 10, 1824; Buchan’s Gleanings,
p. 161, 1825.

1
‘Auchanachie Gordon is bonny and braw,
He would tempt any woman that ever he saw;
He would tempt any woman, so has he tempted me,
And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.’

2
In came her father, tripping on the floor,
Says, Jeanie, ye’re trying the tricks o a whore;
Ye’re caring for them that cares little for thee;
Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.

3
‘Auchanachie Gordon, he is but a man;
Altho he be pretty, where lies his free land?
Salton’s lands they lie broad, his towers they stand hie,
Ye must marry Salton, leave Auchanachie.

4
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .
‘Salton will gar you wear silk gowns fring’d to thy knee,
But ye’ll never wear that wi your love Auchanachie.’

5
‘Wi Auchanachie Gordon I would beg my bread
Before that wi Salton I’d wear gowd on my head,
Wear gowd on my head, or gowns fring’d to the knee;
And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.

6
‘O Salton’s [a] valley lies low by the sea,
He’s bowed on the back, and thrawin on the knee;’
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

7
‘O Salton’s a valley lies low by the sea;
Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee,
Though he’s bowed on the back and thrawin on the knee,
The bonny rigs of Salton they’re nae thrawin tee.’

8
‘O you that are my parents to church may me bring,
But unto young Salton I’ll never bear a son;
For son or for daughter, I’ll ne’er bow my knee,
And I’ll die if I getna my love Auchanachie.’

9
When Jeanie was married, from church was brought hame,
When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been,
When she wi her maidens sae merry shoud hae been,
She’s called for a chamber, to weep there her lane.

10
‘Come to your bed, Jeanie, my honey and my sweet,
For to stile you mistress I do not think it meet:’
‘Mistress or Jeanie, it is a’ ane to me,
It’s in your bed, Salton, I never will be.’

11
Then out spake her father, he spake wi renown;
Some of you that are maidens, ye’ll loose aff her gown;
Some of you that are maidens, ye’ll loose aff her gown,
And I’ll mend the marriage wi ten thousand crowns.

12
Then ane of her maidens they loosed aff her gown,
But bonny Jeanie Gordon she fell in a swoon;
She fell in a swoon low down by their knee;
Says, Look on, I die for my love Auchanachie!

13
That very same day Miss Jeanie did die,
And hame came Auchanachie, hame frae the sea;
Her father and mither welcomd him at the gate;
He said, Where’s Miss Jeanie, that she’s nae here yet?

14
Then forth came her maidens, all wringing their hands,
Saying, Alas for your staying sae lang frae the land!
Sae lang frae the land, and sae lang on the fleed!
They’ve wedded your Jeanie, and now she is dead.

15
‘Some of you, her maidens, take me by the hand,
And show me the chamber Miss Jeanie died in;’
He kissd her cold lips, which were colder than stane,
And he died in the chamber that Jeanie died in.

* * * * *

B

#a.# Murison MS., p. 76. b. Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I,
10.

1
‘Buchan, it’s bonnie, an there lies my love,
My heart is fixt on him, it winna remove;
It winna remove for a’ at I can dee,
An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’

2
Her father cam trippin, cam trippin ben the floor,
Says, Jeannie, ye hae but the tricks o a whore;
Ye care little for the man that cares muckle for thee,
But I’ll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annochie be.

3
‘Ye may marry me to Saltoun before that I go home,
But it is to Lord Saltoun I’ll never bear a son;
A son nor a daughter I’ll never bear to he,
An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’

4
‘All you that is her maidens, ye’ll tak her by the han,
An I will inheft her o five thousan poun;
She’ll wear silk to her heel and gowd to her knee,
An I’ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.’

5
‘All you that is my maidens winna tak me by the han,
I winna be inhefted o five thousan poun;
I’ll nae wear silk to my heal nor wear gowd to my knee,
An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’

6
‘All you that is her maidens, ye’ll show her to her bed;
The blankets they are ready, the sheets are comely spread;
She shall lie in my airms till twelve o the day,
An I’ll cause her to forsake him Young Annochie.’

7
‘All you that is my maidens winna show me to my bed,
Tho the blankets they be ready, the sheets be comely spread;
I’ll nae lie in your airms till twelve o the day,
An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’

8
It’s that day they wedded her, an that day she died,
An that day Young Annochie cam in on the tide;
. . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . .

9
Her maidens did meet him, a’ wringin their hans,
Sayin, It’s a’ for your stayin so long on the sans!
They’ve wedded your Jeannie, an now she is dead,
An it’s a’ for your stayin sae long on the fleed.

10
‘All you that is her maidens ye’ll tak me by the han,
Ye’ll show me the bower that Jeannie lies in:’
He kissed her cold lips, they were both white an red,
And for bonnie Jeannie Gordon Young Annochie died.

* * * * *

#A. a.# _4–6 are disarranged, and an attempt has been made at a
better grouping. 4^{3,4}, 5^{1,2}, are 4; 5^{3,4} are 5^{1,2};
6^{1,2} are 5^{3,4}._

14^2. _The reading of_ #b# _is better_: on the sands.

14^3. frae the fleed: #b# _reads, rightly_, on the flood (fleed).

#b.#

_Printed by Maidment in stanzas of four short lines; by Buchan, in
long lines, not properly grouped._

1
Ben came her father, skipping on the floor,
Said, Jeanie, you’re trying the tricks of a whore.

2
‘You’re caring for him that cares not for thee;
And I pray you take Salton, let Auchanachie be.’

3
‘I will not have Salton, it lies low by the sea;
He is bowed in the back, he’s thrawen in the knee;
And I’ll die if I get not my brave Auchanachie.’

4
‘I am bowed in the back, lassie, as ye see,
But the bonny lands of Salton are no crooked tee.’

5
And when she was married she would not lie down,
But they took out a knife, and cuttit her gown.

6
Likewise of her stays the lacing in three;
And now she lies dead for her Auchanachie.

7
Out comes her bower-woman, wringing her hands,
Says, Alas for the staying so long on the sands!

8
‘Alas for the staying so long on the flood!
For Jeanie was married, and now she is dead.’

#B. a.#

_8, 9 are written together._

9^4. on the sans: _cf._ #A a# 14^1, #b# 8^1, #B b#.

#b.#

_Some trivial variations are not noticed. Printed in six stanzas
of eight long lines._

1^1. lives.

1^4. Oh, never will I forget my love Annachie.

_After 1_:

‘For Annachie Gordon is bonnie and braw,
He’d entice any woman that ever him saw;
He’d entice any woman, and sae he has done me,
And I’ll die if I getna my love Annachie.’

2^{1,2}. _As in_ #A a#.

2^3. care meikle: cares little.

2^4. Saltoun and leave Annachie.

_After 2_:

‘For Annachie Gordon is nothing but a man;
Although he be brave, he has little free lan;
His towns a’ lie waste, and his lands a’ lie lea,
And I’ll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annachie be.’

3^1. wed me: before he goes home.

3^2. neer hae.

3^{3,4}.
‘A son or a daughter, it’s a’ ane to me,
For I’ll cause you marry Saltoun and leave Annachie.’

_After 3_:

He wed her to Saltoun before he gaed home,
But unto Lord Saltoun she neer had a son;
For, instead of being merry her maidens among,
She gaed to her bower and wept there alone.

4^1. Some of you her.

4^2. infeft her in houses and land.

4^3. shall wear silk and satin, wi red goud.

4^4. to forget him the.

5^{1,2}.
Oh you, my maidens, you shall not take my hand,
Nor will I be infefted in houses and land.

5^3. Nor will I wear silk nor red goud.

5^4. For never will I forget my love #A#.

_After 5_:

‘Wi Annachie Gordon I would beg my bread
Before wi Lord Saltoun I would wear goud red;
For he’s bowd on the back and he’s thrawn in the knee:’
‘But the bonnie rigs o Saltoun are nae thrawn tee.’

6, 7. _Wanting._

8.
The day she was married, that same day she died,
While Annachie Gordon was waiting for the tide;
He waited for the tide to tak him oer the fleed,
But he little thought his Jeanie Gordon was deed.

9^1. Then out cam her maidens.

9^2. Wae for: frae the.

9^3. hae married.

9^4. Oh, wae for: on the fleed.

10^1. Some of you her maidens: me ben.

10^2. the chamber where.

10^3. were colder than clay.

10^4. And he died in the chamber where his Jeanie lay.

240

THE RANTIN LADDIE

#A. a.# ‘The Rantin Laddie,’ Johnson’s Museum, No 462, p. 474. #b.#
‘Lord Aboyne,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 66.

#B.# ‘The Rantin Laddie,’ Skene MS., p. 55.

#C.# ‘The Rantin Laddie,’ Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 7.

#D.# ‘Bonnie Rantin Laddie,’ Murison MS., p. 74.

‘Lord Aboyne,’ in Smith’s Scotish Minstrel, IV, 6, is mostly #A a#; a few verses are from #A b.#

A young woman (Maggie in #B#) has played cards and dice with a rantin laddie till she has won a bastard baby. Slighted now by all her friends, she sends a letter to the rantin laddie, who is the Earl of Aboyne, to inform him of her uncomfortable circumstances. The Earl of Aboyne, struck with pity and indignation, sets out at once with five hundred men, #A#, #C#, or a select company of gentlemen and ladies, #B#, #D#, and brings her home as his wife.

#C# 24 is perhaps derived from ‘Geordie,’ but may be regarded as a commonplace.

* * * * *

A

#a.# Johnson’s Musical Museum, No 462, p. 474, communicated by
Robert Burns; 1797. #b.# Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland,
II, 66, 1828.

1
‘Aften hae I playd at the cards and the dice,
For the love of a bonie rantin laddie,
But now I maun sit in my father’s kitchen-neuk
And balow a bastard babie.

2
‘For my father he will not me own,
And my mother she neglects me,
And a’ my friends hae lightlyed me,
And their servants they do slight me.

3
‘But had I a servant at my command,
As aft times I’ve had many,
That wad rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood,
Wi a letter to my rantin laddie!’

4
‘O is he either a laird or a lord,
Or is he but a cadie,
That ye do him ca sae aften by name
Your bonie, bonie rantin laddie?’

5
‘Indeed he is baith a laird and a lord,
And he never was a cadie,
But he is the Earl o bonie Aboyne,
And he is my rantin laddie.’

6
‘O ye’se get a servant at your command,
As aft times ye’ve had many,
That sall rin wi a letter to bonie Glenswood,
A letter to your rantin laddie.’

7
When Lord Aboyne did the letter get,
O but he blinket bonie!
But or he had read three lines of it
I think his heart was sorry.

8
‘O wha is [this] daur be sae bauld
Sae cruelly to use my lassie ?
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

9
‘For her father he will not her know,
And her mother she does slight her,
And a’ her friends hae lightlied her,
And their servants they neglect her.

10
‘Go raise to me my five hundred men,
Make haste and make them ready,
With a milk-white steed under every ane,
For to bring hame my lady.’

11
As they cam in thro Buchanshire,
They were a company bonie,
With a gude claymor in every hand,
And O but they shin’d bonie!

* * * * *

B

Skene MS., p. 55; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802–3.

1
‘Oft have I playd at the cards an the dyce,
The war so very enticin;
But this is a sad an a sorrowfu seat,
To see my apron risin.

2
‘Oft hae I playd at the cards an the dice
For love of my [rantin] laddie;
But now I man sit in my father’s kitchie-nouk,
A rokkin o my baby.

3
‘But gin I had ane o my father’s servans,
For he has so mony,
That wad gae to the wood o Glentanner,
Wi a letter to the rantin laddie!’

4
‘Here am I, ane o your father’s servans,
For he has sae mony,
That will gae to the wood o Glentanner,
Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.’

5
‘Fan ye gae to Aboyne,
To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny,
Wi your hat in your hand gie a bow to the ground,
In the presence o the rantin laddie.’

6
Fan he gaed to Aboyne,
To the woods o Glentanner sae bonny,
Wi his hat in his hand he gied a bow to the ground,
In the presence of the rantin laddie.

7
Fan he looked the letter on
Sae loud as he was laughin!
But or he read it to an end
The tears they cam down rappin.

8
‘O fa is this or fa is that
Has been so ill to my Maggie ?
. . . . . . .
. . . . . . .

9
‘But ye gett four-and-twenty milk white steeds,
Wi an car . . . . .
An as mony gay ladies to ride them on,
To gae an bring hame my Maggie.

10
‘Ye get four-an-twenty bonny brown steeds,
Wi an car o an ome,
An as mony knights to ride them on,
To gae an bring hame my Maggie.’

11
Ye lasses a’, far ever ye be,
An ye match wi ony o our Deeside laddies,
Ye’ll happy be, ye’l happy be,
For they are frank an kind.

* * * * *

C

Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 7, 1823.

1
‘Aft hae I playd at cards and dice
For the love o a bonny rantin laddie,
But now I maun sit i my father’s kitchen-nook,
And sing, Hush, balow, my baby.

2
‘If I had been wise, and had taen advice,
And dane as my bonny love bade me,
I would hae been married at Martinmass,
And been wi my rantin laddie.

3
‘But I was na wise, I took nae advice,
Did not as my bonny love bade me,
And now I maun sit by mysel i the nook,
And rock my bastard baby.

4
‘If I had horse at my command,
As often I had many,
I would ride on to the Castle o Aboyne,
Wi a letter to my rantin laddie.’

5
Down the stair her father came,
And lookëd proud and saucy:
‘Who is the man, and what is his name,
That ye ca your rantin laddie?

6
‘Is he a lord, or is he a laird?
Or is he but a caddie?
Or is it the young Earl o Aboyne
That ye ca your rantin laddie?’

7
‘He is a young and noble lord,
He never was a caddie;
It is the noble Earl o Aboyne
That I ca my rantin laddie.’

8
‘Ye shall hae a horse at your command,
As ye had often many,
To go to the Castle o Aboyne,
Wi a letter to your rantin laddie.

9
‘Where will I get a little page,
Where will I get a caddie,
That will run quick to bonny Aboyne,
Wi this letter to my rantin laddie?’

10
Then out spoke the young scullion-boy,
Said, Here am I, a caddie;
I will run on to bonny Aboyne,
Wi the letter to your rantin laddie.

11
‘Now when ye come to bonny Deeside,
Where woods are green and bonny,
There will ye see the Earl o Aboyne,
Among the bushes mony.

12
‘And when ye come to the lands o Aboyne,
Where all around is bonny,
Ye’ll take your hat into your hand,
Gie this letter to my rantin laddie.’

13
When he came near the banks of Dee,
The birks were blooming bonny,
And there he saw the Earl o Aboyne,
Among the bushes mony.

14
‘Where are ye going, my bonny boy?
Where are ye going, my caddie?’
‘I am going to the Castle o Aboyne,
Wi a letter to the rantin laddie.’

15
‘See yonder is the castle then,
My young and handsome caddie,
And I myself am the Earl o Aboyne,
Tho they ca me the rantin laddie.’

16
‘O pardon, my lord, if I’ve done wrong;
Forgive a simple caddie;
O pardon, pardon, Earl o Aboyne,
I said but what she bade me.’

17
‘Ye have done no wrong, my bonny boy,
Ye’ve done no wrong, my caddie;’
Wi hat in hand he bowed low,
Gave the letter to the rantin laddie.

18
When young Aboyne looked the letter on,
O but he blinkit bonny!
But ere he read four lines on end
The tears came trickling mony.

19
‘My father will no pity shew,
My mother still does slight me,
And a’ my friends have turnd from me,
And servants disrespect me.’

20
‘Who are they dare be so bold
To cruelly use my lassie?
But I’ll take her to bonny Aboyne,
Where oft she did caress me.

21
‘Go raise to me five hundred men,
Be quick and make them ready;
Each on a steed, to haste their speed,
To carry home my lady.’

22
As they rode on thro Buchanshire,
The company were many,
Wi a good claymore in every hand,
That glancëd wondrous bonny.

23
When he came to her father’s gate,
He called for his lady:
‘Come down, come down, my bonny maid,
And speak wi your rantin laddie.’

24
When she was set on high horseback,
Rowd in the Highland plaidie,
The bird i the bush sang not so sweet
As sung this bonny lady.

25
As they rode on thro Buchanshire,
He cried, Each Lowland lassie,
Lay your love on some lowland lown,
And soon will he prove fause t’ ye.

26
‘But take my advice, and make your choice
Of some young Highland laddie,
Wi bonnet and plaid, whose heart is staid,
And he will not beguile ye.’

27
As they rode on thro Garioch land,
He rode up in a fury,
And cried, Fall back, each saucy dame,
Let the Countess of Aboyne before ye.

* * * * *

D

Murison MS., p. 74; Aberdeenshire.

1
‘Aft hae I played at the cards and the dice,
It was a’ for the sake o my laddie,
But noo I sit i my father’s kitchie-neuk,
Singing ba to a bonnie bastard babbie.

2
‘Whar will I get a bonnie boy sae kin
As will carry a letter cannie,
That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne,
Gie the letter to my rantin laddie?’

3
‘Here am I, a bonnie boy sae kin,
As will carry a letter cannie,
That will rin on to the gates o the Boyne,
Gie the letter to your rantin laddie.’

4
‘When ye come to the gates o the Boyne,
An low doon on yon cassie,
Ye’ll tak aff your hat an ye’ll mak a low bow,
Gie the letter to my rantin laddie.’

5
‘When ye come to the gates o the Boyne,
Ye’ll see lords an nobles monie;
But ye’ll ken him among them a’,
He’s my bonnie, bonnie rantin laddie.’

6
‘Is your bonnie love a laird or a lord,
Or is he a cadie,
That ye call him so very often by name
Your bonnie rantin laddie?’

7
‘My love’s neither a laird nor a lord,
Nor is he a cadie,
But he is yerl o a’ the Boyne,
An he is my bonnie rantin laddie.’

8
When he read a line or two,
He smilëd eer sae bonnie;
But lang ere he cam to the end
The tears cam trinklin monie.

9
‘Whar will I find fifty noble lords,
An as monie gay ladies,

* * * * * *

* * * * *

#A. a.#

1^4. below.

4^1. Oh.

8^{3,4}. _The gap should be filled, says Stenhouse, Musical
Museum, IV, 405, with these lines_:

As to gar her sit in [her] father’s kitchen-neuk
And balow a bastard babie.

#b.#

1, 2.
‘Aft hae I played at the ring and the ba,
And lang was a rantin lassie,
But now my father does me forsake,
And my friends they all do neglect me.’

3^1. But gin I had servants.

3^2. As I hae had right mony.

3^3. For to send awa to Glentanner’s yetts.

4^1. O is your true-love a laird or lord.

4^2. he a Highland caddie.

4^3. That ye sae aften call him by name.

5^1. My true-love he’s baith laird and lord.

5^2. Do ye think I hae married a caddie?

5^3. O he is the noble earl o Aboyne.

5^4. he’s my bonnie rantin.

6^1. ye’se hae servants.

6^2. As ye hae had right mony.

6^3. For to send awa to Glentanner’s yetts.

6^4. Wi a.

7^1. Aboyne the letter got.

7^2. Wow but.

7^3. But ere three lines o it he read.

7^4. O but his.

8^{1,2}. His face it reddened like a flame, He grasped his sword sae
massy.

8^3==8^1. O wha is this, _etc_.

8^4==8^2. Sae cruel to, _etc_.

9. _Wanting._

10^1. Gae saddle to me five.

10^2. Gae saddle and.

10^4. For I’m gaing to.

11.
And when they came to auld Fedderate
He found her waiting ready,
And he brought her to Castle Aboyne,
And now she’s his ain dear lady.

#B.#

9^1. he gett.

10^1. He gat.

#D.#

_There is an initial stanza which, it seems to me, cannot have
belonged originally to this ballad_:

‘My father he feet me far, far away,
He feet me in Kirkcaldy;
He feet me till an auld widow-wife,
But she had a bonnie rantin laddie.’

241

THE BARON O LEYS

#A.# Skene MS., p. 20.

#B.# ‘Laird o Leys,’ Kinloch’s Ballad Book, p. 74.

#C.# ‘The Baron o Leys,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland,
II, 144.

‘The Baron o Leys,’ in The New Deeside Guide by James Brown [==Joseph Robertson], Aberdeen [1832], p. 15, and The Deeside Guide, Aberdeen, 1889, p. 23, is #C#. #C# 4–11 seems to be an interpolation by a later hand.

“Part of this ballad,” says Buchan, II, 322, “by ballad-mongers has been confused with the ballad of ‘The Earl of Aboyne’ [No 240, #A b#], called in some instances ‘The Ranting Laddie.’” Laing, Thistle of Scotland, p. 11, appears to have confounded it with ‘The Earl of Aboyne’ proper. He gives this stanza:

‘Some ca me that and some ca me this,
And The Baron o Leys they ca me,
But when I am on bonny Deeside
They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’

Herd’s MSS, I, 233, II, fol. 71, give the two following stanzas under the title ‘The Linkin Ladie:’

‘Wae’s me that eer I made your bed!
Wae’s me that eer I saw ye!
For now I’ve lost my maidenhead,
And I ken na how they ca ye.’

‘My name is well kent in my ain country,
They ca me The Linking Ladie;
If ye had not been as willing as I,
Shame fa them wad eer hae bade ye!’

‘The Linkin Ladie,’ judging from this fragment (as it may be supposed to be), was much of a fashion with the ballad which we are engaged with, and may have been an earlier form of it. Sir Walter Scott, who cites these verses from memory (Sharpe’s Ballad Book, ed. 1880, p. 162), says that the hero of them was a brother of the celebrated [Thomas] Boston, author of ‘The Fourfold State.’

‘The Baron o Leys’ relates, or purports to relate, to an escapade of one of the Burnetts of Leys, Kincardineshire, Alexander, #A#, #B#, George, #C#. A woman who is with child by him gives him his choice of marriage, death, or the payment of ten thousand crowns. He is a married man; his wife is ready to sell everything, to her silk gowns, to release her husband from his awkward position.

* * * * *

A

Skene MS., p. 20; taken down in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.

1
The Laird of Leys is on to Edinbrugh,
To shaw a fit o his follie;
He drest himsel in the crimson-brown,
An he provd a rantin laddie.

2
Ben came a weel-faird lass,
Says, Laddie, how do they ca ye?
‘They ca me this, an they ca me that,
Ye wudna ken fat they ca me;
But whan I’m at home on bonnie Deeside
They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’

3
They sought her up, they sought her down,
They sought her in the parlour;
She coudna be got but whar she was,
In the bed wi The Rantin Laddie.

4
‘Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys,
Ye tell me how they ca ye!
Your gentle blood moves in my side,
An I dinna ken how they ca ye.’

5
‘They ca me this, an they ca me that,
Ye couldna ken how they ca me;
But whan I’m at home on bonnie Deeside
They ca me The Rantin Laddie.’

6
‘Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys,
Ye tell me how they ca ye!
Your gentle blood moves in my side,
An I dinna ken how to ca ye.’

7
‘Baron of Leys, it is my stile,
Alexander Burnett they ca me;
Whan I’m at hame on bonnie Deeside
My name is The Rantin Laddie.’

8
‘Gin your name be Alexander Burnett,
Alas that ever I saw ye!
For ye hae a wife and bairns at hame,
An alas for lyin sae near ye!

9
‘But I’se gar ye be headit or hangt,
Or marry me the morn,
Or else pay down ten thousand crowns
For giein o me the scorn.’

10
‘For my head, I canna want;
I love my lady dearly;
But some o my lands I maun lose in the case,
Alas for lyin sae near ye!’

11
Word has gane to the Lady of Leys
That the laird he had a bairn;
The warst word she said to that was,
‘I wish I had it in my arms.

12
‘For I will sell my jointure-lands—
I am broken an I’m sorry—
An I’ll sell a’, to my silk gowns,
An get hame my rantin laddie.’

* * * * *

B

Kinloch’s Ballad Book, p. 74, 1827.

1
The Laird o Leys is to London gane;
He was baith full and gawdie;
For he shod his steed wi siller guid,
And he’s playd the ranting laddie.

2
He hadna been in fair London
A twalmonth and a quarter,
Till he met wi a weel-faurd may,
Wha wishd to know how they ca’d him.

3
‘They ca me this, and they ca me that,
And they’re easy how they’ve ca’d me;
But whan I’m at hame on bonnie Deeside
They ca me The Ranting Laddie.’

4
‘Awa wi your jesting, sir,’ she said,
‘I trow you’re a ranting laddie;
But something swells atween my sides,
And I maun ken how they ca thee.’

5
‘They ca me this, and they ca me that,
And they’re easy how they ca me;
The Baron o Leys my title is,
And Sandy Burnet they ca me.’

6
‘Tell down, tell down ten thousand crowns,
Or ye maun marry me the morn;
Or headit or hangit ye sall be,
For ye sanna gie me the scorn.’

7
‘My head’s the thing I canna weel want;
My lady she loves me dearlie;
Nor yet hae I means ye to maintain;
Alas for the lying sae near thee!’

8
But word’s gane doun to the Lady o Leys
That the Baron had got a babie:
‘The waurst o news!’ my lady she said,
‘I wish I had hame my laddie.

9
‘But I’ll sell aff my jointure-house,
Tho na mair I sud be a ladie;
I’ll sell a’ to my silken goun,
And bring hame my rantin laddie.’

10
So she is on to London gane,
And she paid the money on the morn;
She paid it doun and brought him hame,
And gien them a’ the scorn.

* * * * *

C

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, II, 144.

1
The Baron o Leys to France is gane,
The fashion and tongue to learn,
But hadna been there a month or twa
Till he gat a lady wi bairn.

2
But it fell ance upon a day
The lady mournd fu sairlie;
Says, Who’s the man has me betrayed?
It gars me wonder and fairlie.

3
Then to the fields to him she went,
Saying, Tell me what they ca thee;
Or else I’ll mourn and rue the day,
Crying, alas that ever I saw thee!

4
‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that,
I carena fat befa me;
For when I’m at the schools o France
An awkward fellow they ca me.’

5
‘Wae’s me now, ye awkward fellow,
And alas that ever I saw thee!
Wi you I’m in love, sick, sick in love,
And I kenna well fat they ca thee.’

6
‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that,
What name does best befa me;
For when I walk in Edinburgh streets
The Curling Buckle they ca me.’

7
‘O wae’s me now, O Curling Buckle,
And alas that ever I saw thee!
For I’m in love, sick, sick in love,
And I kenna well fat they ca thee.’

8
‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that,
Whatever name best befa’s me;
But when I’m in Scotland’s king’s high court
Clatter the Speens they ca me.’

9
‘O wae’s me now, O Clatter the Speens,
And alas that ever I saw thee!
For I’m in love, sick, sick in love,
And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’

10
‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that,
I carena what they ca me;
But when wi the Earl o Murray I ride
It’s Scour the Brass they ca me.’

11
‘O wae’s me now, O Scour the Brass,
And alas that ever I saw thee!
For I’m in love, sick, sick in love,
And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’

12
‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that,
Whatever name best befa’s me;
But when I walk thro Saint Johnstone’s town
George Burnett they ca me.’

13
‘O wae’s me, O wae’s me, George Burnett,
And alas that ever I saw thee!
For I’m in love, sick, sick in love,
And I kenna well fat to ca thee.’

14
‘Some ca’s me this, some ca’s me that,
Whatever name best befa’s me;
But when I am on bonny Dee side
The Baron o Leys they ca me.’

15
‘O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys,
This day that ever I saw thee!
There’s gentle blood within my sides,
And now [I] ken fat they ca thee.

16
‘But ye’ll pay down ten thousand crowns,
Or marry me the morn;
Else I’ll cause you be headed or hangd
For gieing me the scorn.’

17
‘My head is a thing I cannot well want;
My lady loves me sae dearly;
But I’ll deal the gold right liberally
For lying ae night sae near thee.’

18
When word had gane to the Lady o Leys
The baron had gotten a bairn,
She clapped her hands, and this did say,
‘I wish he were in my arms!

19
‘O weal is me now, O Baron o Leys,
For ye hae pleased me sairly;
Frae our house is banishd the vile reproach
That disturbed us late and early.’

20
When she looked ower her castle-wa,
To view the woods sae rarely,
There she spied the Baron o Leys
Ride on his steed sae rarely.

21
Then forth she went her baron to meet,
Says, Ye’re welcome to me, fairly!
Ye’se hae spice-cakes, and seed-cakes sweet,
And claret to drink sae rarely.

* * * * *

#C.#

19^{3,4}. Frae her house she banishd the vile reproach That
disturbs us. _The Deeside Guide has nearly the reading here
substituted, and some correction is necessary. The reference
seems to be to childlessness. In #A# 8 the baron is said to have
bairns._

242

THE COBLE O CARGILL

‘The Coble o Cargill,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 80; ‘The Weary Coble o
Cargill,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 230. Communicated to
Motherwell by William George, tenant in Cambus Michael, Perthshire,
who took it from the recitation of an old woman.

Stobhall is on the left bank of the Tay, eight miles above Perth, in Cargill parish, and Cargill is a little further up. Balathy is opposite Cargill, and Kercock is higher up the river on the right bank. The local tradition, as given by Motherwell in his manuscript and his book, is that the butler of Stobhall had a leman both at Kercock and at Balathy. Upon an occasion when the butler had gone to Kercock, the lass of Balathy scuttled the coble, which he had left below, “and waited his return, deeming that her suspicions of his infidelity would be well founded if he took the boat without visiting her in passing.” The butler took the boat without stopping at Balathy, and in her sight the weary coble sank. Local tradition in such cases seldom means more than a theory which people have formed to explain a preëxisting ballad. The jealousy of the lass of Balathy has, in the ballad, passed the point at which confirmation would be waited for. She has many a time watched late for her chance to bore the coble, and she bores it ‘wi gude will.’

St. 14 is a commonplace which has been already several times noted.

The Rev. William Marshall’s Historic Scenes in Perthshire, Edinburgh, 1879, p. 246, gives us a “modern” version of this ballad; that is, one written over in magazine style. This is repeated in Robert Ford’s Auld Scots Ballants, 1889, p. 152. The Perthshire Antiquarian Miscellany, by Robert S. Fittis, Perth, 1875, p. 466, cites some stanzas from another ballad, composed by one James Beattie, journeyman-mason, but represented as having been taken down verbatim from the mouth of an old man. In these pieces the lass of Balathy has the name Jean, Jeanie Low (Low or Gow, according to Ford, p. 149).[142]

* * * * *

1
David Drummond’s destinie,
Gude man o appearance o Cargill;
I wat his blude rins in the flude,
Sae sair against his parents’ will.

2
She was the lass o Balathy toun,
And he the butler o Stobhall,
And mony a time she wauked late
To bore the coble o Cargill.

3
His bed was made in Kercock ha,
Of gude clean sheets and of [the] hay;
He wudna rest ae nicht therein,
But on the prude waters he wud gae.

4
His bed was made in Balathy toun,
Of the clean sheets and of the strae;
But I wat it was far better made
Into the bottom o bonnie Tay.

5
She bored the coble in seven pairts,
I wat her heart might hae been fu sair;
For there she got the bonnie lad lost
Wi the curly locks and the yellow hair.

6
He put his foot into the boat,
He little thocht o ony ill;
But before that he was mid-waters,
The weary coble began to fill.

7
‘Woe be to the lass o Balathy toun,
I wat an ill death may she die!
For she bored the coble in seven pairts,
And let the waters perish me.

8
‘Oh, help, oh help, I can get nane,
Nae help o man can to me come!’
This was about his dying words,
When he was choaked up to the chin.

9
‘Gae tell my father and my mother
It was naebody did me this ill;
I was a-going my ain errands,
Lost at the coble o bonnie Cargill.’

10
She bored the boat in seven pairts,
I wat she bored it wi gude will;
And there they got the bonnie lad’s corpse,
In the kirk-shot o bonnie Cargill.

11
Oh a’ the keys o bonnie Stobha
I wat they at his belt did hing;
But a’ the keys of bonnie Stobha
They now ly low into the stream.

12
A braver page into his age
Neer set a foot upon the plain;
His father to his mother said,
‘Oh, sae soon as we’ve wanted him!

13
‘I wat they had mair luve than this
When they were young and at the scule;
But for his sake she wauked late,
And bored the coble o bonnie Cargill.’

14
‘There’s neer a clean sark gae on my back,
Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;
There’s neither coal nor candle-licht
Shall shine in my bouir for evir mair.

15
‘At kirk nor market I’se neer be at,
Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee;
There’s neer a ane shall say to anither,
That’s the lassie gard the young man die.

16
‘Between the yates o bonnie Stobha
And the kirk-style o bonnie Cargill,
There is mony a man and mother’s son
That was at my love’s burial.’

* * * * *

14^2. Not yet.

243

JAMES HARRIS (THE DÆMON LOVER)

#A.# A Warning for Married Women, being an example of Mrs Jane
Reynolds (a West-country woman), born near Plymouth, who, having
plighted her troth to a Seaman, was afterwards married to a
Carpenter, and at last carried away by a Spirit, the manner how
shall presently be recited. To a West-country tune called ‘The Fair
Maid of Bristol,’ ‘Bateman,’ or ‘John True.’ Pepys Ballads, IV, 101.

#B.# ‘The Distressed Ship-Carpenter,’ The Rambler’s Garland, 1785 (?),
British Museum, 11621, c. 4 (57).

#C.# ‘James Herries,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I,
214.

#D.# ‘The Carpenter’s Wife,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 297.

#E.# ‘The Dæmon Lover,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 97.

#F.# ‘The Dæmon Lover,’ Scott’s Minstrelsy, II, 427, 1812.

#G.# ‘The Dæmon Lover,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 93.

#H.# ‘The Banks of Italy,’ Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 138,
two stanzas.

The Pepys copy was printed for Thackeray and Passenger. Others are: Crawford, No 1114, Printed for A. M[ilbourne], W. O[nley], and T. Thackeray; Ewing, 377, for Coles, Vere, and Gilbertson; the same, 378, by and for W. O[nley]. No 71 in Thackeray’s List, printed 1685. A later copy in the Douce ballads, II, fol. 249 b, Bodleian Library, printed by Thomas Norris at the Looking-Glass on London Bridge. Another, without publisher’s name, in the Roxburghe collection, I, 502; Ballad Society, III, 200.

‘The Dæmon Lover’ was first published in Scott’s Minstrelsy, 5th edition, 1812 (#F#). William Laidlaw, who furnished the copy, inserted four stanzas of his own (6, 12, 17, 18, here omitted).[143] Motherwell, in 1827, had not been able to get more than nine stanzas (#G#), but afterwards secured a version of twice as many (#E#). Kinloch says of #D#, “My reciter, and others to whom I applied, assured me that they had never heard any more of it than what is given here.” Buchan, I, 313, referring to Motherwell’s fragment (#G#), is “happy to say ... there is still a perfect copy of this curious and scarce legend in existence, which is now for the first time given to the public” (#C#).@

An Americanized version of this ballad was printed not very long ago at Philadelphia, under the title of ‘The House-Carpenter.’ I have been able to secure only two stanzas, which were cited in Graham’s Illustrated Magazine, September, 1858:

‘I might have married the king’s daughter dear;’
‘You might have married her,’ cried she,
‘For I am married to a house-carpenter,
And a fine young man is he.’

‘Oh dry up your tears, my own true love,
And cease your weeping,’ cried he,
‘For soon you’ll see your own happy home,
On the banks of old Tennessee.’

#B-H# have for their basis the broadside #A#; the substance of the story is repeated, with traditional modifications. Two or three stanzas of #A# are of the popular description, but it does not seem necessary to posit a tradition behind #A#. The correspondences of the several versions are as follows:

#A# 18^{1,2}, #C# 2. #A# 18^{3,4}, 19, #B# 1, #D# 1, #E# 1, 2^{1,2}, #F# 1. #A# 20, #C# 3, #D# 2, #E# 2^{3,4}, #F# 2. #A# 21, #B# 4^{1,2}, 3^{3,4}, #C# 6^1, 12^{3,4}, #D# 3. #A# 22, #B# 2, #C# 4^{3,4}, 5^{1,2}, #E# 3, #F# 4. #A# 23, #C# 7. #A# 24, #B# 5, #C# 8, #E# 5^{1,2}, #F# 6. #A# 25, #B# 6, #C# 9, #F# 7, #G# 1. #A# 26, #B# 8, #C# 10, #F# 9^{3,4}. #A# 28, #B# 11. #A# 30, #B# 12.

#B# 3^{1,2}, #E# 4^{1,2}, #F# 5^{1,2}. #B# 7, C 13, #E# 6^4, #G# 2, #H# 1. #B# 9,10, #C# 14,17, #D# 5, #E# 12, 13, #G# 5. #B# 12, #C# 23. #B# 13, #C# 24.

#C# 3, #D# 2, #E# 2, #F# 2. #C# 11, #E# 7, #F# 8, #H# 2. #C# 16, #D# 6, #E# 16, #F# 12, #G# 6. #C# 21, #D# 8.

#D# 1, #E# 1, #F# 1. #D# 7, #E# 10, #F# 10, #G# 8.

#E# 11, #F# 11, #G# 7. #E# 14, #F# 13. #E# 15, #F# 14. #E# 18, #F# 15.

#F# 9^2, #G# 4^{3,4}.

It will be observed that each of the versions #B-F# adds something which is taken up by a successor or successors. The arrangement of #E# and #F#, of #E# especially, is objectionable.

#A.# Jane Reynolds and James Harris, a seaman, had exchanged vows of marriage. The young man was pressed as a sailor, and after three years was reported as dead; the young woman married a ship-carpenter, and they lived together happily for four years, and had children. One night when the carpenter was absent from home, a spirit rapped at the window and announced himself as James Harris, come after an absence of seven years[144] to claim the woman for his wife. She explained the state of things, but upon obtaining assurance that her long-lost lover had the means to support her—seven ships upon the sea—consented to go with him, for he was really much like unto a man. ‘The woman-kind’ was seen no more after that; the carpenter hanged himself.

The carpenter is preserved in #B-E#, and even his name in #C#. He swoons in #B#, and runs distracted in #C#, when he learns what has become of his wife; the other versions take no notice of him after the elopement. #B-F# all begin with the return of the long-absent lover. The ship (as it _is_ to have in #A# 26) has silken sails and gold masts, or the like, #C# 10, #F# 9^{3,4} (_cf._ #B# 8, #G# 1); but there are no visible mariners, #F# 9^{1,2}, #G# 4^{3,4}. The pair have been only a short time afloat when the woman begins to weep for son, husband, or both, #B# 9, 10, #C# 14, #D# 5, #E# 12, 13, #G# 5. The seaman (as it will be convenient to call him) tells her to hold her tongue, he will show her how the lilies grow on the banks of Italy, #C# 16, #D# 6 (_cf._ #E# 16, 17), #F# 12, and, in a different connection, #G# 6. The seaman’s countenance grows grim, and the sea gurly, #D# 7, #E# 10, #F# 10, #G# 8. He will let her see the fishes swim, where the lilies grow, in the bottom of the sea, #C# 21, #D# 8 (_cf._ #E# 16, 17). She discerns that the seaman has a cloven foot, #E# 11, #F# 11, #G# 7. She asks, What is yon bright hill? It is the hill of heaven, where she will never be. What is yon dark hill? It is the hill of hell, where they two shall be: #E# 14, 15, #F# 13, 14. The seaman reaches his hand to the topmast, strikes the sails, and the ship drowns, C 22; takes the woman up to the topmast and sinks the ship in a flash of fire, #E# 18; strikes the topmast with his hand, the fore-mast with his knee, and sinks the ship, #F# 15. In #E# 9 he throws the woman into the main, and five-and-twenty hundred ships are wrecked; in #G# 9 the little ship runs round about and never is seen more.

In A the _revenant_ is characterized as a spirit; in #B#, which is even tamer than #A#, he is called the mariner, and is drowned with the woman; in #C# he expressly says to the woman, I brought you away to punish you for breaking your vows to me. This explicitness may be prosaic, but it seems to me regrettable that the conception was not maintained. To explain the eery personality and proceedings of the ship-master, #E-G#, with a sort of vulgar rationalism, turn him into the devil, and as he is still represented in #E#, #F# (#G# being defective at the beginning) as returning to seek the fulfilment of old vows, he there figures as a “dæmon lover.” #D# (probably by the fortunate accident of being a fragment) leaves us to put our own construction upon the weird seaman; and, though it retains the homely ship-carpenter, is on the whole the most satisfactory of all the versions.[145]

Scott’s ballad is translated by Talvj, Versuch, etc., p. 558; by Gerhard, p. 84; and by Rosa Warrens, Schottische Volkslieder, No 14, p. 61 (after Aytoun, who repeats Scott, omitting one of Laidlaw’s stanzas). Knortz, Lieder und Romanzen Alt-Englands, p. 192, translates Allingham’s ballad.

* * * * *

A

Pepys Ballads, IV, 101; from a copy in Percy’s papers.

1
There dwelt a fair maid in the West,
Of worthy birth and fame,
Neer unto Plimouth, stately town,
Jane Reynolds was her name.

2
This damsel dearly was belovd
By many a proper youth,
And what of her is to be said
Is known for very truth.

3
Among the rest a seaman brave
Unto her a wooing came;
A comely proper youth he was,
James Harris calld by name.

4
The maid and young man was agreed,
As time did them allow,
And to each other secretly
They made a solemn vow,

5
That they would ever faithfull be
Whilst Heaven afforded life;
He was to be her husband kind,
And she his faithfull wife.

6
A day appointed was also
When they was to be married;
But before these things were brought to pass
Matters were strangely carried.

7
All you that faithfull lovers be
Give ear and hearken well,
And what of them became at last
I will directly tell.

8
The young man he was prest to sea,
And forcëd was to go;
His sweet-heart she must stay behind,
Whether she would or no.

9
And after he was from her gone
She three years for him staid,
Expecting of his comeing home,
And kept herself a maid.

10
At last news came that he was dead
Within a forraign land,
And how that he was buried
She well did understand,

11
For whose sweet sake the maiden she
Lamented many a day,
And never was she known at all
The wanton for to play.

12
A carpenter that livd hard by,
When he heard of the same,
Like as the other had done before,
To her a wooing came.

13
But when that he had gained her love
They married were with speed,
And four years space, being man and wife,
They loveingly agreed.

14
Three pritty children in this time
This loving couple had,
Which made their father’s heart rejoyce,
And mother wondrous glad.

15
But as occasion servd, one time
The good man took his way
Some three days journey from his home,
Intending not to stay.

16
But, whilst that he was gone away,
A spirit in the night
Came to the window of his wife,
And did her sorely fright.

17
Which spirit spake like to a man,
And unto her did say,
‘My dear and onely love,’ quoth he,
‘Prepare and come away.

18
‘James Harris is my name,’ quoth he,
‘Whom thou didst love so dear,
And I have traveld for thy sake
At least this seven year.

19
‘And now I am returnd again,
To take thee to my wife,
And thou with me shalt go to sea,
To end all further strife.’

20
‘O tempt me not, sweet James,’ quoth she,
‘With thee away to go;
If I should leave my children small,
Alas! what would they do?

21
‘My husband is a carpenter,
A carpenter of great fame;
I would not for five hundred pounds
That he should know the same.’

22
‘I might have had a king’s daughter,
And she would have married me;
But I forsook her golden crown,
And for the love of thee.

23
‘Therefore, if thou’lt thy husband forsake,
And thy children three also,
I will forgive the[e] what is past,
If thou wilt with me go.’

24
‘If I forsake my husband and
My little children three,
What means hast thou to bring me to,
If I should go with thee?’

25
‘I have seven ships upon the sea;
When they are come to land,
Both marriners and marchandize
Shall be at thy command.

26
‘The ship wherein my love shall sail
Is glorious to behold;
The sails shall be of finest silk,
And the mast of shining gold.’

27
When he had told her these fair tales,
To love him she began,
Because he was in human shape,
Much like unto a man.

28
And so together away they went
From off the English shore,
And since that time the woman-kind
Was never seen no more.

29
But when her husband he come home
And found his wife was gone,
And left her three sweet pretty babes
Within the house alone,

30
He beat his breast, he tore his hair,
The tears fell from his eyes,
And in the open streets he run
With heavy doleful cries.

31
And in this sad distracted case
He hangd himself for woe
Upon a tree near to the place;
The truth of all is so.

32
The children now are fatherless,
And left without a guide,
But yet no doubt the heavenly powers
Will for them well provide.

* * * * *

B

The Rambler’s Garland, British Museum, 11621, c. 4 (57). 1785 (?)

1
‘Well met, well met, my own true love,
Long time I have been seeking thee;
I am lately come from the salt sea,
And all for the sake, love, of thee.

2
‘I might have had a king’s daughter,
And fain she would have married me;
But I’ve forsaken all her crowns of gold,
And all for the sake, love, of thee.’

3
‘If you might have had a king’s daughter,
I think you much to blame;
I would not for five hundred pounds
That my husband should hear the same.

4
‘For my husband is a carpenter,
And a young ship-carpenter is he,
And by him I have a little son,
Or else, love, I’d go along with thee.

5
‘But if I should leave my husband dear,
Likewise my little son also,
What have you to maintain me withal,
If I along with you should go?’

6
‘I have seven ships upon the seas,
And one of them brought me to land,
And seventeen mariners to wait on thee,
For to be, love, at your command.

7
‘A pair of slippers thou shalt have,
They shall be made of beaten gold,
Nay and be lin’d with velvet soft,
For to keep thy feet from cold.

8
‘A gilded boat thou then shall have,
The oars shall gilded be also,
And mariners to row the[e] along,
For to keep thee from thy overthrow.’

9
They had not been long upon the sea
Before that she began to weep:
‘What, weep you for my gold?’ he said,
‘Or do you weep for my fee?

10
‘Or do you weep for some other young man
That you love much better than me?’
‘No, I do weep for my little son,
That should have come along with me.’

11
She had not been upon the seas
Passing days three or four
But the mariner and she were drowned,
And never were heard of more.