  Annan Water’s wading deep, And my Love Annie’s wondrous bonny; And I am loath she should wet her feet, Because I love her best of ony.’ He’s loupen on his bonny gray, He rode the right gate and the ready; For all the storm he wadna stay, For seeking of his bonny lady. And he has ridden o’er field and fell, Through moor, and moss, and many a mire; His spurs of steel were sair to bide, And from her four feet flew the fire. ‘My bonny gray, now play your part! If ye be the steed that wins my dearie, With corn and hay ye’ll be fed for aye, And never spur shall make you wearie.’ The gray was a mare, and a right gude mare, But when she wan the Annan Water, She could not have ridden the ford that night Had a thousand merks been wadded at her. ‘O boatman, boatman, put off your boat, Put off your boat for golden money!’ But for all the gold in fair Scotland, He dared not take him through to Annie. ‘O I was sworn so late yestreen, Not by a single oath, but mony! I’ll cross the drumly stream to-night, Or never could I face my honey.’ The side was stey, and the bottom deep, From bank to brae the water pouring; The bonny gray mare she swat for fear, For she heard the water-kelpy roaring. He spurr’d her forth into the flood, I wot she swam both strong and steady; But the stream was broad, and her strength did fail, And he never saw his bonny lady! Unknown. |
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