Her father’s gien her a bonny ship, An sent her to the stran; She’s tane her young son in her arms, An turnd her back to the lan. She had na been o the sea saillin About a month or more, Till landed has she her bonny ship Near her true-love’s door. The night was dark, an the win blew caul, An her love was fast asleep, An the bairn that was in her twa arms Fu sair began to weep. Long stood she at her true-love’s door, An lang tirld at the pin; At length up gat his fa’se mither, Says, “Wha’s that woud be in?” “O it is Anny of Roch-royal, Your love, come oer the sea, But an your young son in her arms; So open the door to me.” “Awa, awa, you ill woman, You’ve na come here for gude; You’re but a witch, or wile warlock, Or mermaid o the flude.” “I’m na a witch, or wile warlock, Nor mermaiden,” said she; “I’m but Fair Anny o Roch-royal; O open the door to me.” “O gin ye be Anny o Roch-royal, As I trust not ye be, What taiken can ye gie that ever I kept your company?” “O dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,” she says, “Whan we sat at the wine, How we changed the napkins frae our necks, It’s na sae lang sin syne? “An yours was good, an good enough, But nae sae good as mine; For yours was o the cumbruk clear, But mine was silk sae fine. “An dinna ye mind, Love Gregor,” she says, “As we twa sat at dine, How we changed the rings frae our fingers, But ay the best was mine? “For yours was good, an good enough, Yet nae sae good as mine; For yours was of the good red gold, But mine o the diamonds fine. “Sae open the door now, Love Gregor, An open it wi speed, Or your young son that is in my arms For cauld will soon be dead.” “Awa, awa, you ill woman, Gae frae my door for shame; For I hae gotten another fair love, Sae ye may hye you hame.” “O hae you gotten another fair love, For a’ the oaths you sware? Then fair you well now, fa’se Gregor, For me you’s never see mair.” O heely, heely gi’d she back, As the day began to peep; She set her foot on good ship-board, An sair, sair did she weep. PART IILove Gregor started frae his sleep, An to his mither did say, “I dreamd a dream this night, mither, That maks my heart right wae. “I dreamd that Anny of Roch-royal, The flowr o a’ her kin, Was standin mournin at my door, But nane would lat her in.” “O there was a woman stood at the door, Wi a bairn intill her arms, But I woud na lat her within the bowr, For fear she had done you harm.” O quickly, quickly raise he up, An fast ran to the stran, An there he saw her Fair Anny, Was sailin frae the lan. An “Heigh, Anny!” an “Hou, Anny! O Anny, speak to me!” But ay the louder that he cried “Anny,” The louder roard the sea. An “Heigh, Anny!” an “Hou, Anny! O Anny, winna you bide?” But ay the langer that he cried “Anny,” The higher roard the tide. The win grew loud, an the sea grew rough, An the ship was rent in twain, An soon he saw her Fair Anny Come floating oer the main. He saw his young son in her arms, Baith tossd aboon the tide; He wrang his hands, than fast he ran, An plung’d i the sea sae wide. He catchd her by the yallow hair, An drew her to the strand, But cauld an stiff was every limb Before he reachd the land. O first he kissd her cherry cheek,’ An then he kissd her chin; An sair he kissd her ruby lips, But there was nae breath within. O he has mournd oer Fair Anny Till the sun was gaing down, Then wi a sigh his heart it brast, An his soul to heaven has flown. The eldest she was vexed sair, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And sore envied her sister fair; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The eldest said to the youngest ane, Binnorie, O Binnorie; “Will ye go and see your father’s ships come in?”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. She’s ta’en her by the lily hand, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And led her down to the river strand; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The youngest stude upon a stane, Binnorie, O Binnorie; The eldest came and pushed her in; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. She took her by the middle sma’, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And dash’d her bonny back to the jaw; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “O sister, sister, reach your hand, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And ye shall be heir of half my land.”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “O sister, I’ll not reach my hand, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And I’ll be heir of all your land; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “Shame fa’ the hand that I should take, Binnorie, O Binnorie; It’s twin’d me, and my world’s make.”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “O sister, reach me but your glove, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And sweet William shall be your love.”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “Sink on, nor hope for hand or glove! Binnorie, O Binnorie: And sweet William shall better be my love, By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “Your cherry cheeks and your yellow hair, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Garr’d me gang maiden evermair.”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. Sometimes she sunk, and sometimes she swam, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Until she cam to the miller’s dam; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “O father, father, draw your dam! Binnorie, O Binnorie; There’s either a mermaid, or a milk-white swan.”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The miller hasted and drew his dam, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And there he found a drown’d woman; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. You could not see her yellow hair, Binnorie, O Binnorie; For gowd and pearls that were sae rare; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. You could na see her middle sma’. Binnorie, O Binnorie; Her gowden girdle was sae bra’; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. A famous harper passing by, Binnorie, O Binnorie; The sweet pale face he chanced to spy; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. And when he looked that lady on, Binnorie, O Binnorie; He sigh’d and made a heavy moan; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He made a harp of her breast-bone, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Whose sounds would melt a heart of stone; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The strings he framed of her yellow hair, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Whose notes made sad the listening ear; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He brought it to her father’s hall, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And there was the court assembled all; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. He laid this harp upon a stone, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And straight it began to play alone! By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “O yonder sits my father, the king, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And yonder sits my mother, the queen; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. “And yonder stands my brother Hugh, Binnorie, O Binnorie; And by him my William, sweet and true.”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. But the last tune that the harp play’d then, Binnorie, O Binnorie; Was—“Woe to my sister, false Helen!”— By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. So slowly, slowly she got up, And so slowly she came to him, And all she said when she came there, “Young man, I think you are a dying.” He turnd his face unto her then: “If you be Barbara Allen, My dear,” said he, “come pitty me, As on my death-bed I am lying.” “If on your death-bed you be lying, What is that to Barbara Allen? I cannot keep you from your death; So farewell,” said Barbara Allen. He turnd his face unto the wall, And death came creeping to him: “Then adieu, adieu, and adieu to all, And adieu to Barbara Allen!” And as she was walking on a day, She heard the bell a ringing, And it did seem to ring to her “Unworthy Barbara Allen.” She turnd herself round about, And she spy’d the corps a coming: “Lay down, lay down the corps of clay, That I may look upon him.” And all the while she looked on, So loudly she lay laughing, While all her friends cry’d out amain, “Unworthy Barbara Allen!” When he was dead, and laid in grave, Then death came creeping to she: “O mother, mother, make my bed, For his death hath quite undone me. “A hard-hearted creature that I was, To slight one that lovd me so dearly; I wish I had been more kinder to him, The time of his life when he was near me.” So this maid she then did dye, And desired to be buried by him, And repented her self before she dy’d, That ever she did deny him. But ah! so pale, he knew her not, Though her smile on him was dwelling. “And am I then forgot—forgot?” It broke the heart of Ellen. In vain he weeps, in vain he sighs; Her cheek is cold as ashes; Nor Love’s own kiss shall wake those eyes To lift their silken lashes. Thomas Campbell But he had not been gone a year and a day, Strange countries for to see, When languishing thoughts came into his head, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see, see, Lady Nancy Belle he would go see. So he rode, and he rode on his milk-white steed, Till he came to London-town; And there he heard St. Pancras’ bells, And the people all mourning round, round, And the people all mourning round. “Oh! what is the matter?” Lord Lovel he said, “Oh! what is the matter?” said he; “A Lord’s Lady is dead,” a woman replied, “And some call her Lady Nancy-cy, And some call her Lady Nancy.” So he ordered the grave to be opened wide, And the shroud he turned down, And there he kissed her clay-cold lips, Till the tears came trickling down, down, Till the tears came trickling down. Lady Nancy she died as it might be to-day, Lord Lovel he died as to-morrow; Lady Nancy she died out of pure, pure grief, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow, sorrow, Lord Lovel he died out of sorrow. Lady Nancy was laid in St. Pancras’ church, Lord Lovel was laid in the choir; And out of her bosom there grew a red rose, And out of her lover’s a brier, brier, And out of her lover’s a brier. They grew, and they grew, to the church steeple, too, And then they could grow no higher; So there they entwined in a true lover’s knot, For all lovers true to admire-mire, For all lovers true to admire. |
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