Arthur Quiller-Couch, ed. 1919. The Oxford Book of English Verse: 1250–1900.
THE reivers they stole Fair Annie, | |
As she walk’d by the sea; | |
But a noble knight was her ransom soon, | |
Wi’ gowd and white monie. | |
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She bided in strangers’ land wi’ him, | 5 |
And none knew whence she cam; | |
She lived in the castle wi’ her love, | |
But never told her name. | |
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‘It ‘s narrow, narrow, mak your bed, | |
And learn to lie your lane; | 10 |
For I’m gaun owre the sea, Fair Annie, | |
A braw Bride to bring hame. | |
Wi’ her I will get gowd and gear, | |
Wi’ you I ne’er gat nane. | |
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‘But wha will bake my bridal bread, | 15 |
Or brew my bridal ale? | |
And wha will welcome my bright Bride, | |
That I bring owre the dale?’ | |
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It ‘s I will bake your bridal bread, | |
And brew your bridal ale; | 20 |
And I will welcome your bright Bride, | |
That you bring owre the dale.’ | |
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‘But she that welcomes my bright Bride | |
Maun gang like maiden fair; | |
She maun lace on her robe sae jimp, | 25 |
And comely braid her hair. | |
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‘Bind up, bind up your yellow hair, | |
And tie it on your neck; | |
And see you look as maiden-like | |
As the day that first we met.’ | 30 |
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‘O how can I gang maiden-like, | |
When maiden I am nane? | |
Have I not borne six sons to thee, | |
And am wi’ child again?’ | |
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‘I’ll put cooks into my kitchen, | 35 |
And stewards in my hall, | |
And I’ll have bakers for my bread, | |
And brewers for my ale; | |
But you’re to welcome my bright Bride, | |
That I bring owre the dale.’ | 40 |
|
Three months and a day were gane and past, | |
Fair Annie she gat word | |
That her love’s ship was come at last, | |
Wi’ his bright young Bride aboard. | |
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She ‘s ta’en her young son in her arms, | 45 |
Anither in her hand; | |
And she ‘s gane up to the highest tower, | |
Looks over sea and land. | |
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‘Come doun, come doun, my mother dear, | |
Come aff the castle wa’! | 50 |
I fear if langer ye stand there, | |
Ye’ll let yoursell doun fa’.’ | |
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She ‘s ta’en a cake o’ the best bread, | |
A stoup o’ the best wine, | |
And a’ the keys upon her arm, | 55 |
And to the yett is gane. | |
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‘O ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord, | |
To your castles and your towers; | |
Ye’re welcome hame, my ain gude lord, | |
To your ha’s, but and your bowers. | 60 |
And welcome to your hame, fair lady! | |
For a’ that ‘s here is yours.’ | |
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‘O whatna lady ‘s that, my lord, | |
That welcomes you and me? | |
Gin I be lang about this place, | 65 |
Her friend I mean to be.’ | |
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Fair Annie served the lang tables | |
Wi’ the white bread and the wine; | |
But ay she drank the wan water | |
To keep her colour fine. | 70 |
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And she gaed by the first table, | |
And smiled upon them a’; | |
But ere she reach’d the second table, | |
The tears began to fa’. | |
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She took a napkin lang and white, | 75 |
And hung it on a pin; | |
It was to wipe away the tears, | |
As she gaed out and in. | |
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When bells were rung and mass was sung, | |
And a’ men bound for bed, | 80 |
The bridegroom and the bonny Bride | |
In ae chamber were laid. | |
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Fair Annie’s ta’en a harp in her hand, | |
To harp thir twa asleep; | |
But ay, as she harpit and she sang, | 85 |
Fu’ sairly did she weep. | |
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‘O gin my sons were seven rats, | |
Rinnin’ on the castle wa’, | |
And I mysell a great grey cat, | |
I soon wad worry them a’! | 90 |
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‘O gin my sons were seven hares, | |
Rinnin’ owre yon lily lea, | |
And I mysell a good greyhound, | |
Soon worried they a’ should be!’ | |
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Then out and spak the bonny young Bride, | 95 |
In bride-bed where she lay: | |
‘That ‘s like my sister Annie,’ she says; | |
‘Wha is it doth sing and play? | |
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‘I’ll put on my gown,’ said the new-come Bride, | |
‘And my shoes upon my feet; | 100 |
I will see wha doth sae sadly sing, | |
And what is it gars her greet. | |
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‘What ails you, what ails you, my housekeeper, | |
That ye mak sic a mane? | |
Has ony wine-barrel cast its girds, | 105 |
Or is a’ your white bread gane?’ | |
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‘It isna because my wine is spilt, | |
Or that my white bread’s gane; | |
But because I’ve lost my true love’s love, | |
And he ‘s wed to anither ane.’ | 110 |
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‘Noo tell me wha was your father?’ she says, | |
‘Noo tell me wha was your mother? | |
And had ye ony sister?’ she says, | |
‘And had ye ever a brother?’ | |
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‘The Earl of Wemyss was my father, | 115 |
The Countess of Wemyss my mother, | |
Young Elinor she was my sister dear, | |
And Lord John he was my brother.’ | |
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‘If the Earl of Wemyss was your father, | |
I wot sae was he mine; | 120 |
And it ‘s O my sister Annie! | |
Your love ye sallna tyne. | |
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‘Tak your husband, my sister dear; | |
You ne’er were wrang’d for me, | |
Beyond a kiss o’ his merry mouth | 125 |
As we cam owre the sea. | |
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‘Seven ships, loaded weel, | |
Cam owre the sea wi’ me; | |
Ane o’ them will tak me hame, | |
And six I’ll gie to thee.’ | 130 |