Part 27

Gibb MS., p. 9. “From recitation; traced to Mary Jack, Lochlee, Forfarshire, died 1881, aged 94.”

1 Bonny may has to the ewe-bughts gane, To milk her father’s ewes, An aye as she milked her bonny voice rang Far out amang the knowes.

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2 ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may, Milk on, milk on,’ said he; ‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may; Will ye shew me out-ower the lea?’

3 ‘Ride on, ride on, stout rider,’ she said, ‘Yere steed’s baith stout and strang; For out o the ewe-bught I daurna come, For fear ye do me wrang.’

4 But he’s tane her by the milk-white hand, An by the green gown-sleeve, An he’s laid her low on the dewy grass, An at nae ane spiered he leave.

5 Then he’s mounted on his milk-white steed, An ridden after his men, An a’ that his men they said to him Was, Dear master, ye’ve tarried lang.

6 ‘I’ve ridden east, an I’ve ridden wast, An I’ve ridden amang the knowes, But the bonniest lassie eer I saw Was milkin her daddie’s yowes.’

7 She’s taen the milk-pail on her heid, An she’s gane langin hame, An a her father said to her Was, Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.

8 ‘Oh, wae be to your shepherds! father, For they take nae care o the sheep; For they’ve bygit the ewe-bught far frae hame, An they’ve trysted a man to me.

9 ‘There came a tod unto the bucht, An a waefu tod was he, An, or ever he had tane that ae ewe-lamb, I had rather he had tane ither three.’

10 But it fell on a day, an a bonny summer day, She was ca’in out her father’s kye, An bye came a troop o gentlemen, Cam ridin swiftly bye.

11 Out an spoke the foremost ane, Says, Lassie hae ye got a man? She turned herself saucy round about, Says, Yes, I’ve ane at hame.

12 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye my bonny may, Sae loud as I hear ye lee! For dinna ye mind that misty nicht Ye were in the ewe-bughts wi me?’

13 He ordered ane o his men to get down; Says, Lift her up behind me; Your father may ca in the kye when he likes, They sall neer be ca’ed in by thee.

14 ‘For I’m the laird o Athole swaird, Wi fifty ploughs an three, An I hae gotten the bonniest lass In a’ the north countrie.’

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G

Scott’s Minstrelsy, III, 280, 1803; from Ettrick Forest.

1 O the broom, and the bonny, bonny broom, And the broom of the Cowdenknows! And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang, I the bought, milking the ewes.

2 The hills were high on ilka side, An the bought i the lirk o the hill, And aye, as she sang, her voice it rang Out-oer the head o yon hill.

3 There was a troop o gentlemen Came riding merrilie by, And one o them has rode out o the way, To the bought to the bonny may.

4 ‘Weel may ye save an see, bonny lass, An weel may ye save an see!’ ‘An sae wi you, ye weel-bred knight, And what’s your will wi me?’

5 ‘The night is misty and mirk, fair may, And I have ridden astray, And will ye be so kind, fair may, As come out and point my way?’

6 ‘Ride out, ride out, ye ramp rider! Your steed’s baith stout and strang; For out of the bought I dare na come, For fear at ye do me wrang.’

7 ‘O winna ye pity me, bonny lass? O winna ye pity me? An winna ye pity my poor steed, Stands trembling at yon tree?’

8 ‘I wadna pity your poor steed, Tho it were tied to a thorn; For if ye wad gain my love the night Ye wad slight me ere the morn.

9 ‘For I ken you by your weel-busked hat, And your merrie twinkling ee, That ye’re the laird o the Oakland hills, An ye may weel seem for to be.’

10 ‘But I am not the laird o the Oakland hills, Ye’re far mistaen o me; But I’m ane o the men about his house, An right aft in his companie.’

11 He’s taen her by the middle jimp, And by the grass-green sleeve, He’s lifted her over the fauld-dyke, And speerd at her sma leave.

12 O he’s taen out a purse o gowd, And streekd her yellow hair: ‘Now take ye that, my bonnie may, Of me till you hear mair.’

13 O he’s leapt on his berry-brown steed, An soon he’s oertaen his men; And ane and a’ cried out to him, O master, ye’ve tarryd lang!

14 ‘O I hae been east, and I hae been west, An I hae been far oer the knows, But the bonniest lass that ever I saw Is i the bought, milkin the ewes.’

15 She set the cog upon her head, An she’s gane singing hame: ‘O where hae ye been, my ae daughter? Ye hae na been your lane.’

16 ‘O nae body was wi me, father, O nae body has been wi me; The night is misty and mirk, father, Ye may gang to the door and see.

17 ‘But wae be to your ewe-herd, father, And an ill deed may he die! He bug the bought at the back o the know And a tod has frighted me.

18 ‘There came a tod to the bought-door, The like I never saw; And ere he had taken the lamb he did I had lourd he had taen them a’.’

19 O whan fifteen weeks was come and gane, Fifteen weeks and three, That lassie began to look thin and pale, An to long for his merry-twinkling ee.

20 It fell on a day, on a het simmer day, She was ca’ing out her father’s kye, By came a troop o gentlemen, A’ merrilie riding bye.

21 ‘Weel may ye save an see, bonny may! Weel may ye save and see! Weel I wat ye be a very bonny may, But whae’s aught that babe ye are wi?’

22 Never a word could that lassie say, For never a ane could she blame, An never a word could the lassie say, But, I have a good man at hame.

23 ‘Ye lied, ye lied, my very bonny may, Sae loud as I hear you lie! For dinna ye mind that misty night I was i the bought wi thee?

24 ‘I ken you by your middle sae jimp, An your merry-twinkling ee, That ye’re the bonny lass i the Cowdenknow, An ye may weel seem for to be.’

25 Than he’s leapd off his berry-brown steed, An he’s set that fair may on: ‘Caw out your kye, gude father, yoursel, For she’s never caw them out again.

26 ‘I am the laird of the Oakland hills, I hae thirty plows and three, An I hae gotten the bonniest lass That’s in a’ the south country.’

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H

Kinloch MSS, I, 137; from Mrs Boutchart.

1 There was a may, a maiden sae gay, Went out wi her milking-pail; Lang she foucht or her ewes wad bucht, And syne she a milking fell.

2 And ay as she sang the rocks they rang, Her voice gaed loud and shill; Ye wad hae heard the voice o the maid On the tap o the ither hill.

3 And ay she sang, and the rocks they rang, Her voice gaed loud and hie; Till by there cam a troop o gentlemen, A riding up that way.

4 ‘Weel may ye sing, ye bonnie may, Weel and weel may ye sing! The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk, And we hae ridden wrang.’

5 ‘Haud by the gate ye cam, kind sir, Haud by the gate ye cam; But tak tent o the rank river, For our streams are unco strang.’

6 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may, Canna ye pity me? Canna ye pity my puir steed, Stands trembling at yon tree?’

7 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir? What wad ye hae frae me? If he has neither corn nor hay, He has gerss at libertie.’

8 ‘Can ye na pity me, fair may, Can ye na pity me? Can ye na pity a gentle knicht That’s deeing for love o thee?’

9 He’s tane her by the milk-white hand, And by the gerss-green sleeve; He’s laid her laigh at the bucht-end, At her kin speird na leave.

10 ‘After ye hae tane your will o me, Your will as ye hae tane, Be as gude a gentle knicht As tell to me your name.’

11 ‘Some do ca me Jack,’ says he, ‘And some do ca me John; But whan I’m in the king’s hie court Duke William is my name.

12 ‘But I ken by your weel-faurd face, And by your blinking ee, That ye are the Maid o the Cowdenknows, And seem very weel to be.’

13 ‘I am na the maid o the Cowdenknows, Nor does not think to be; But I am ane o her best maids, That’s aft in her companie.

14 ‘But I ken by your black, black hat, And by your gay gowd ring, That ye are the Laird o Rochna hills, Wha beguiles a’ our women.’

15 ‘I am na the Laird o Rochna hills. Nor does na think to be; But I am ane o his best men, That’s aft in his companie.’

16 He’s put his hand in his pocket And tane out guineas three; Says, Tak ye that, my bonnie may; It’ll pay the nourice fee.

17 She’s tane her cog upon her head, And fast, fast gaed she hame: ‘Whare hae ye been, my dear dochter? Ye hae na been your lane.

18 ‘The nicht is misty, weet, and mirk; Ye may look out and see; The ewes war skippin oure the knowes, They wad na bucht in for me.

19 ‘But wae be to your shepherd, father, An ill death may he dee! He bigget the buchts sae far frae the toun, And he trysted a man to me.

20 ‘There cam a tod amang the flock, The like o him I neer did see; Afore he had tane the lamb that he took, I’d rather he’d tane ither three.’

21 Whan twenty weeks war past and gane, Twenty weeks and three, The lassie begoud to spit and spue, And thought lang for ‘s blinkin ee.

22 ’Twas on a day, and a day near bye, She was ca’ing out the kye, That by cam a troop o merry gentlemen, Cam riding bye that way.

23 ‘Wha’s gien ye the scorn, bonnie may? O wha’s done ye the wrang?’ ‘Na body, na body, kind sir,’ she said, ‘My baby’s father’s at hame.’

24 ‘Ye lee, ye lee, fause may,’ he said, ‘Sae loud as I hear ye lee! Dinna ye mind o the mirk misty nicht I buchted the ewes wi thee?’

25 ‘Weel may I mind yon mirk misty nicht, Weel may I mind,’ says she; ‘For ay whan ye spak ye lifted up your hat, Ye had a merry blinkin ee.’

26 He’s turned him round and richt about, And tane the lassie on; ‘Ca out your ky, auld father,’ he said, ‘She sall neer ca them again.

27 ‘For I am the Laird o Rochna hills, O thirty plows and three; And I hae gotten the bonniest lass O a’ the west countrie.’

28 ‘And I’m the Maid o the Cowdenknows, O twenty plows and three; And I hae gotten the bonniest lad In a’ the north countrie.’

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I

Kinloch MSS, VII, 153; from the recitation of Miss M. Kinnear, August 23, 1826, a North Country version.

1 The lassie sang sae loud, sae loud, The lassie sang sae shill; The lassie sang, and the greenwud rang, At the farther side o yon hill.

2 Bye there cam a troop o merry gentlemen, They aw rode merry bye; The very first and the foremaist Was the first that spak to the may.

3 ‘This is a mark and misty nicht, And I have ridden wrang; If ye wad be sae gude and kind As to show me the way to gang.’

4 ‘If ye binna the laird o Lochnie’s lands, Nor nane o his degree, I’ll show ye a nearer road that will keep you frae The glen-waters and the raging sea.’

5 ‘I’m na the laird o Lochnie’s lands, Nor nane o his degree; But I am as brave a knicht, And ride aft in his company.

6 ‘Have ye na pity on me, pretty maid? Have ye na pity on me? Have ye na pity on my puir steed, That stands trembling by yon tree?’

7 ‘What pity wad ye hae, kind sir? What pity wad ye hae frae me? Though your steed has neither corn nor hay, It has gerss at its liberty.’

8 He has trysted the pretty maid Till they cam to the brume, And at the end o yon ew-buchts It’s there they baith sat doun.

9 Till up she raise, took up her milk-pails, And away gaed she hame; Up bespak her auld father, ‘It’s whare hae ye been sae lang?’

10 ‘This is a mark and a misty nicht, Ye may gang to the door and see; The ewes hae taen a skipping out-oure the knows, They winna bucht in for me.

11 ‘I may curse my father’s shepherd; Some ill death mat he dee! He has buchted the ewes sae far frae the toun, And has trysted the young men to me.’

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J

Kinloch MSS, VI, 11; in the handwriting of Dr Joseph Robertson, and given him by his mother, Christían Leslie.

1 It was a dark and a misty night, . . . . . . . And by came a troop o gentlemen, Said, Lassie, shew me the way.

2 ‘Oh well ken I by your silk mantle, And by your grass-green sleeve, That you are the maid of the Cowdenknows, And may well seem to be.’

3 ‘I’m nae the maid of the Cowdenknows, Nor ever think to be; I am but ane of her hirewomen, Rides aft in her companie.

4 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed, And by your merry winking ee, That you are the laird of Lochinvar, And may well seem to be.’

5 ‘I’m nae the laird of Lochinvar, Nor may well seem to be; But I am one of his merry young men, And am oft in his companie.’

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6 ‘The tod was among your sheep, father, You may look forth and see; And before he had taen the lamb he’s taen I had rather he had taen three.’

7 When twenty weeks were come and gane, Twenty weeks and three, The lassie she turned pale and wan . . . . . . .

8 . . . . . . . And was caain out her father’s kye, When by came a troop of gentlemen, Were riding along the way.

9 ‘Fair may it fa thee, weel-fa’rt may! Wha’s aught the bairn ye’re wi?’ ‘O I hae a husband o my ain, To father my bairn te.’

10 ‘You lie, you lie, you well-far’d may, Sae loud’s I hear you lie! Do you mind the dark and misty night I was in the bught wi thee?’

11 ‘Oh well do I ken by your milk-white steed, And by your merry winkin ee, That you are the laird of Lochinvar, That was in the bught wi me.’

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K

Joseph Robertson’s Journal of Excursions, No 6; “taken down from a man in the parish of Leochel, 12 February, 1829.”

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1 There was four and twenty gentlemen, As they were ridin by, And aff there loups the head o them, Cums in to this fair may.

2 ‘It’s a mark and a mark and a misty night, And we canna know the way; And ye wad be as gude to us As shew us on the way.’

3 ‘Ye’ll get a boy for meat,’ she says, ‘Ye’ll get a boy for fee, . . . . . . . That will shew you the right way.’

4 ‘We’ll get a boy for meat,’ he says, ‘We’ll get a boy for fee, But we do not know where to seek That bonny boy out.’

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5 ‘It’s foul befa my auld father’s men, An ill death mat they die! They’ve biggit the ewe bucht sae far frae the town They’ve tristed the men to me.’

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L

Buchan’s MSS, II, 178.

O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom grows oer the burn! Aye when I mind on ‘s bonny yellow hair, I aye hae cause to mourn.

1 There was a bonny, a well-fared may, In the fauld milking her kye, When by came a troop of merry gentlemen, And sae merrily they rode by. O the broom, etc.

2 The maid she sang till the hills they rang, And a little more forebye, Till in came ane of these gentlemen To the bught o the bonny may.

3 ‘Well mat ye sing, fair maid,’ he says, ‘In the fauld, milking your kye; The night is misty, weet and dark, And I’ve gane out o my way.’

4 ‘Keep on the way ye ken, kind sir, Keep on the way ye ken; But I pray ye take care o Clyde’s water, For the stream runs proud and fair.’

5 ‘I ken you by your lamar beads, And by your blinking ee, That your mother has some other maid To send to the ewes than thee.’

6 ‘I ken you by your powderd locks, And by your gay gold ring, That ye are the laird o Rock-rock lays, That beguiles all young women.’

7 ‘I’m not the laird o the Rock-rock lays, Nor ever hopes to be; But I am one o the finest knights That’s in his companie.

8 ‘Are ye the maid o the Cowden Knowes? I think you seem to be;’ ‘No, I’m not the maid o the Cowden Knowes, Nor ever hopes to be; But I am one o her mother’s maids, And oft in her companie.’

9 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by her grass-green sleeve, He’s set her down upon the ground Of her kin spierd nae leave.

10 He’s gien her a silver comb, To comb her yellow hair; He bade her keep it for his sake, For fear she never got mair.

11 He pat his hand in his pocket, He’s gien her guineas three; Says, Take ye that, fair maid, he says, ‘Twill pay the nourice’s fee.

12 She’s taen her milk-pail on her head, And she gaed singing hame, And a’ that her auld father did say, ‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’

13 ‘Woe be to your shepherd, father, And an ill death mat he die! He’s biggit the bught sae far frae the town, And trystit a man to me.

14 ‘There came a tod into the bught, The like o ‘m I neer did see: Before he’d taen the lamb he’s taen, I’d rather he’d taen other three.’

15 Or eer six months were past and gane, Six months but other three, The lassie begud for to fret and frown, And lang for his blinking ee.

16 It fell upon another day, When ca’ing out her father’s kye, That by came the troop o gentlemen, Sae merrily riding by.

17 Then ane of them stopt, and said to her, ‘Wha’s aught that bairn ye’re wi?’ The lassie began for to blush, and think, To a father as good as ye.

18 She turnd her right and round about And thought nae little shame; Then a’ to him that she did say, ‘I’ve a father to my bairn at hame.’

19 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-fared may, Sae loud’s I hear ye lie! For dinna ye mind yon misty night I was in the bught wi thee?

20 ‘I gave you a silver comb, To comb your yellow hair; I bade you keep it for my sake, For fear ye’d never get mair.

21 ‘I pat my hand in my pocket, I gae you guineas three; I bade you keep them for my sake, And pay the nourice’s fee.’

22 He’s lappen aff his berry-brown steed And put that fair maid on; ‘Ca hame your kye, auld father,’ he says, ‘She shall never mair return.

23 ‘I am the laird o the Rock-rock lays, Hae thirty ploughs and three, And this day will wed the fairest maid That eer my eyes did see.’

O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom grows oer the burn! Aye when she minds on his yellow hair, She shall neer hae cause to mourn.

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M

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 172.

1 ’Twas on a misty day, a fair maiden gay Went out to the Cowdenknowes; Lang, lang she thought ere her ewes woud bught, Wi her pail for to milk the ewes. O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! And aye sae sweet as the lassie sang, In the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.

2 And aye as she sang the greenwoods rang, Her voice was sae loud and shrill; They heard the voice o this well-far’d maid At the other side o the hill.

3 ‘My mother she is an ill woman, And an ill woman is she; Or than she might have got some other maid To milk her ewes without me.

4 ‘My father was ance a landed laird, As mony mair have been; But he held on the gambling trade Till a ‘s free lands were dune.

5 ‘My father drank the brandy and beer, My mother the wine sae red; Gars me, poor girl, gang maiden lang, For the lack o tocher guid.’

6 There was a troop o merry gentlemen Came riding alang the way, And one o them drew the ewe-bughts unto, At the voice o this lovely may.

7 ‘O well may you sing, my well-far’d maid, And well may you sing, I say, For this is a mirk and a misty night, And I’ve ridden out o my way.’

8 ‘Ride on, ride on, young man,’ she said, ‘Ride on the way ye ken; But keep frae the streams o the Rock-river, For they run proud and vain.

9 ‘Ye winna want boys for meat, kind sir, And ye winna want men for fee; It sets not us that are young women To show young men the way.’

10 ‘O winna ye pity me, fair maid? O winna ye pity me? O winna ye pity my poor steed, Stands trembling at yon tree?’

11 ‘Ride on, ride on, ye rank rider, Your steed’s baith stout and strang; For out o the ewe-bught I winna come, For fear that ye do me wrang.

12 ‘For well ken I by your high-colld hat, And by your gay gowd ring, That ye are the Earl o Rock-rivers, That beguiles a’ our young women.’

13 ‘O I’m not the Earl o the Rock-rivers, Nor ever thinks to be; But I am ane o his finest knights, Rides aft in his companie.

14 ‘I know you well by your lamar beads, And by your merry winking ee, That ye are the maid o the Cowdenknowes, And may very well seem to be.’

15 He’s taen her by the milk-white hand, And by the grass-green sleeve, He’s laid her down by the ewe-bught-wa, At her he spiered nae leave.

16 When he had got his wills o her, And his wills he had taen, He lifted her up by the middle sae sma, Says, Fair maid, rise up again.

17 Then he has taen out a siller kaim, Kaimd down her yellow hair; Says, Fair maid, take that, keep it for my sake, Case frae me ye never get mair.

18 Then he put his hand in his pocket, And gien her guineas three; Says, Take that, fair maiden, till I return, ‘Twill pay the nurse’s fee.

19 Then he lap on his milk-white steed, And he rade after his men, And a’ that they did say to him, ‘Dear master, ye’ve tarried lang.’

20 ‘I’ve ridden east, I’ve ridden west, And over the Cowdenknowes, But the bonniest lass that eer I did see, Was i the ewe-bught, milking her ewes.’

21 She’s taen her milk-pail on her head, And she gaed singing hame; But a’ that her auld father did say, ‘Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.’ ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! Aye sae sair’s I may rue the day, In the ewe-bughts, milking my ewes.

22 ‘O this is a mirk and a misty night, O father, as ye may see; The ewes they ran skipping over the knowes, And they woudna bught in for me.

23 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘Before that he’d taen the lamb that he took, I rather he’d taen other three.’

24 When twenty weeks were come and gane, And twenty weeks and three, The lassie’s colour grew pale and wan, And she longed this knight to see.

25 Says, ‘Wae to the fox came amo our flock! I wish he had taen them a’ Before that he’d taen frae me what he took; It’s occasiond my downfa.’

26 It fell ance upon a time She was ca’ing hame her kye, There came a troop o merry gentlemen, And they wyled the bonny lassie by.

27 But one o them spake as he rode past, Says, Who owes the bairn ye are wi? A little she spake, but thought wi hersell, ‘Perhaps to ane as gude as thee.’

28 O then she did blush as he did pass by, And dear! but she thought shame, And all that she did say to him, ‘Sir, I have a husband at hame.’

29 ‘Ye lie, ye lie, ye well-far’d maid, Sae loud as I hear you lie! For dinna ye mind yon misty night, Ye were in the bught wi me? ‘O the broom, the bonny, bonny broom, The broom o the Cowdenknowes! Aye say sweet as I heard you sing, In the ewe-bughts, milking your ewes.’