Part 41

#C.# Skene MS., p. 58.

#D.# ‘The Earl o Boyn,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 17, Abbotsford.

#E.# ‘Earl of Aboyne,’ Harris MS., fol. 21 b.

#F.# ‘The Earl of Aboyne,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 635.

#G.# Motherwell’s MS., p. 131.

#H.# ‘Bonny Peggy Irvine,’ Campbell MSS, II, 105.

#I.# ‘Earl of Aboyne,’ or, ‘Bonny Peggy Irvine,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 128.

#J.# ‘Earl of Aboyne,’ or, ‘Bonny Peggy Irvine,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 135.

#K.# From the recitation of Miss Fanny Walker, two stanzas.

#L.# ‘Earl of Aboyne,’ Motherwell’s Note-Book, p. 54, one stanza.

The copy in The New Deeside Guide, by James Brown [Joseph Robertson], Aberdeen, 1832, p. 26, is #B a# with a few editorial changes. It is repeated in The Deeside Guide, Aberdeen, 1889, with slight variations. The copy in Christie’s Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 22, is “given from the way the editor has heard it sung, assisted by Mr Buchan’s copy in his Gleanings;” in fact, it is #B a# with unimportant variations, which must be treated as arbitrary. Smith’s New History of Aberdeenshire, I, 207, repeats Aytoun, nearly, and Aytoun, II, 309, 1859, #B a#, nearly.

None of the versions here given go beyond 1800. Mrs Brown of Falkland, in an unprinted letter to Alexander Fraser Tytler, December 23, 1800, offers him ‘The Death of the Countess of Aboyne,’ which she had heard sung when a child: see p. 309, note.

#A-I.# The Earl of Aboyne (who is kind but careless, #E#) goes to London without his wife, and stays overlong. Information comes by letter that he has married there, #B#, or that he is in love with another woman, #D#. Word is brought that he is on his way home, and very near. His lady orders stable-grooms, minstrels, cooks, housemaids, to bestir themselves, #A-E#, #I#, #K#, makes a handsome toilet, #A#, #B#, #D#, #E#, #F#, and calls for wine to drink his health, #B#, #C#, #D#, #G#. She comes down to the close to take him from his horse, #B#, #C#, #D#, #F#, and bids him thrice welcome. “Kiss me then for my coming,” says the earl, and surprises his wife, and all of us, by adding that the morrow would have been his wedding-day, if he had stayed in London. The lady gives him an angry and disdainful answer. This he resents, and orders his men to mount again; he will go first to the Bog of Gight to see the Marquis of Huntly, and then return to London. The lady attempts, through a servant, to get permission to accompany him, but is repulsed, #A#, #B#, #C#, #D# (misplaced in #G#). According to #A#, #C#, #D# 24, #F#, the countess languished for about a twelvemonth, and then died of a broken heart; but #D# 25, #G#, #H#, make her death ensue before or shortly after the earl’s arrival at the Bog o Gight. Aboyne is very much distressed at the tidings; he would rather have lost all his lands than Margaret Irvine, #C#, #D#, #E#, #G#, #H#. He goes to the burial with a train of gentlemen, all in black from the hose to the hat, #A#, #C# (horse to the hat, #B#, #E#, #F#).

#J.# No Earl of Aboyne ever married an Irvine, and no Earl of Aboyne would have meditated open bigamy, and have informed his wife while receiving her welcome home how near he had come to perpetrating the same. The historical difficulty and the practical absurdity are removed by assuming that #J# alone has preserved (or restored) the true and original story, and that all the other copies, beginning with Mrs Brown’s, which calls the lady the Countess of Aboyne, have gone wrong. In #J#, Peggy Irvine is only Aboyne’s love, 1^3, and Aboyne is her true lover, 8^3. Aboyne was careless and kind, and kind to every woman, and Aboyne staid over long in London, #A#, and the ladies they did invite him, #H#. Under these circumstances, some Aboyne may have been on the brink of deserting a Peggy Irvine to whom he was engaged.

Aboyne is Boyn, #D#, Boon, #H#; Irvine is Harboun, Harvey, #D#, Ewan, #E#, #K#; Bog o Gight is Bogs o the Geich, #D#, Bogs o the Gay, #G#, Bughts o the Gight, #H#, Bog o Keith, #J#. The Bog o Gight is made Aboyne’s property in #D#, #G#, #H#. The Marquis of Huntly is blamed by Aboyne for inciting him to unkindness, #D# 28, #G# 11.

* * * * *

A

Kinloch MSS, V, 351; in the handwriting of John Hill Burton.

1 The Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind, He’s kind to every woman, And the Earl of Aboyne he’s courteous and kind, But he stays ower lang in London.

2 The ladie she stood on her stair-head, Beholding his grooms a coming; She knew by their livery and raiment so rare That their last voyage was from London.

3 ‘My groms all, ye’ll be well in call, Hold all the stables shining; With a bretther o degs ye’ll clear up my nags, Sin my gude Lord Aboyne is a coming.

4 ‘My minstrels all, be well in call, Hold all my galleries ringing; With music springs ye’ll try well your strings, Sin my gude lord’s a coming.

5 ‘My cooks all, be well in call, Wi pots and spits well ranked; And nothing shall ye want that ye call for, Sin my gude Lord Aboyne’s a coming.

6 ‘My chamber-maids, ye’ll dress up my beds, Hold all my rooms in shining; With Dantzic waters ye’ll sprinkle my walls, Sin my good lord’s a coming.’

7 Her shoes was of the small cordain, Her stockings silken twisting; Cambrick so clear was the pretty lady’s smock, And her stays o the braided sattin.

8 Her coat was of the white sarsenent, Set out wi silver quiltin, And her gown was o the silk damask, Set about wi red gold walting.

9 Her hair was like the threads of gold, Wi the silk and sarsanet shining, Wi her fingers sae white, and the gold rings sae grite, To welcome her lord from London.

10 Sae stately she steppit down the stair, And walkit to meet him coming; Said, O ye’r welcome, my bonny lord, Ye’r thrice welcome home from London!

11 ‘If this be so that ye let me know, Ye’ll come kiss me for my coming, For the morn should hae been my bonny wedding-day Had I stayed the night in London.’

12 Then she turned her about wi an angry look, O for such an a sorry woman! ‘If this be so that ye let me know, Gang kiss your ladies in London.’

13 Then he looked ower his left shoulder To the worthie companie wi him; Says he, Isna this an unworthy welcome The we’ve got, comin from London!

14 ‘Get yer horse in call, my nobles all, And I’m sorry for yer coming, But we’ll horse, and awa to the bonny Bog o Gight, And then we’ll go on to London.’

15 ‘If this be Thomas, as they call you, You’ll see if he’ll hae me with him; And nothing shall he be troubled with me But myself and my waiting-woman.’

16 ‘I’ve asked it already, lady,’ he says, ‘And your humble servant, madam; But one single mile he winna lat you ride Wi his company and him to London.’

17 A year and mare she lived in care, And doctors wi her dealin, And with a crack her sweet heart brack, And the letters is on to London.

18 When the letters he got, they were all sealed in black, And he fell in a grievous weeping; He said, She is dead whom I loved best If I had but her heart in keepin.

19 Then fifteen o the finest lords That London could afford him, From their hose to their hat, they were all clad in black, For the sake of her corpse, Margaret Irvine.

20 The furder he gaed, the sorer he wept, Come keping her corpse, Margaret Irvine. Until that he came to the yetts of Aboyne, Where the corpse of his lady was lying.

* * * * *

B

#a.# Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 71, 1825. #b.# Gibb MS., p. 29, No 5, 1882, as learned by Mrs Gibb, senior, “fifty years ago,” in Strachan, Kincardineshire.

1 The Earl o Aboyne to old England’s gone, An a his nobles wi him; Sair was the heart his fair lady had Because she wanna wi him.

2 As she was a walking in her garden green, Amang her gentlewomen, Sad was the letter that came to her, Her lord was wed in Lunan.

3 ‘Is this true, my Jean,’ she says, ‘My lord is wed in Lunan?’ ‘O no, O no, my lady gay, For the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’

4 When she was looking oer her castell-wa, She spied twa boys comin: ‘What news, what news, my bonny boys? What news hae ye frae Lunan?’

5 ‘Good news, good news, my lady gay, The Lord o Aboyne is comin; He’s scarcely twa miles frae the place, Ye’ll hear his bridles ringin.’

6 ‘O my grooms all, be well on call, An hae your stables shinin; Of corn an hay spare nane this day, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

7 ‘My minstrels all, be well on call, And set your harps a tunin, Wi the finest springs, spare not the strings, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

8 ‘My cooks all, be well on call, An had your spits a runnin, Wi the best o roast, an spare nae cost, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.

9 ‘My maids all, be well on call, An hae your flours a shinin; Cover oer the stair wi herbs sweet an fair, Cover the flours wi linen, An dress my bodie in the finest array, Sin the Lord o Aboyne is comin.’

10 Her gown was o the guid green silk, Fastned wi red silk trimmin; Her apron was o the guid black gaze, Her hood o the finest linen.

11 Sae stately she stept down the stair, To look gin he was comin; She called on Kate, her chamer-maid, An Jean, her gentlewoman, To bring her a bottle of the best wine, To drink his health that’s comin.

12 She’s gaen to the close, taen him frae’s horse, Says, You’r thrice welcome fra Lunan! ‘If I be as welcome hauf as ye say, Come kiss me for my comin, For tomorrow should been my wedding-day Gin I’de staid on langer in Lunan.’

13 She turned about wi a disdainful look To Jean, her gentlewoman: ‘If tomorrow should been your wedding-day, Go kiss your whores in Lunan.’

14 ‘O my nobles all, now turn your steeds, I’m sorry for my comin; For the night we’ll alight at the bonny Bog o Gight, Tomorrow tak horse for Lunan.’

15 ‘O Thomas, my man, gae after him, An spier gin I’ll win wi him;’ ‘Yes, madam, I hae pleaded for thee, But a mile ye winna win wi him.’

16 Here and there she ran in care, An doctors wi her dealin; But in a crak her bonny heart brak, And letters gaed to Lunan.

17 When he saw the letter sealed wi black, He fell on’s horse a weeping: ‘If she be dead that I love best, She has my heart a keepin.

18 ‘My nobles all, ye’ll turn your steeds, That comely face [I] may see then; Frae the horse to the hat, a’ must be black, And mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine.’

19 When they came near to the place, They heard the dead-bell knellin, And aye the turnin o the bell Said, Come bury bonny Peggy Irvine.

* * * * *

C

Skene MS., p. 58; taken down in the North of Scotland, 1802–3.

1 The Earl of Aboyne he’s careless an kin, An he is new come frae London; He sent his man him before, To tell o his hame-comin.

2 First she called on her chamberline, Sin on Jeanie, her gentlewoman: ‘Bring me a glass o the best claret win, To drink my good lord’s well-hame-comin.

3 ‘My servants all, be ready at a call. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . For the Lord of Aboyne is comin

4 ‘My cooks all, be ready at a call . . . . . . . Wi the very best of meat, For the Lord of Aboyne is comin.

5 ‘My maids all, be ready at a call, . . . . . . . The rooms I’ve the best all to be dressd, For the Lord of Aboyn is comin.’

6 She did her to the closs to take him fra his horse, An she welcomed him frae London: . . . . . . . ‘Ye’r welcome, my good lord, frae London!’

7 ‘An I be sae welcome, he says, ‘Ye’ll kiss me for my comin, For the morn sud hae bin my weddin-day Gif I had staid in London.’

8 She turned her about wi a disdainfull look, Dear, she was a pretty woman! ‘Gif the morn shud hae bin yer weddin-day, Ye may kiss your whores in London.’

9 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘So I shall, madam, an ye’s hae na mare to sey, For I’ll dine wi the Marquis of Huntley.’

10 She did her to his servant-man, I wat they caed him Peter Gordon: ‘Ye will ask my good lord if he will let me Wi him a single mile to ride [to London].’

11 ‘Ye need not, madam, . . . I have asked him already; He will not let ye a single mile ride, For he is to dine with the Marquis o Huntly.’

12 She called on her chamber-maid, Sin on Jean, her gentlewoman: ‘Ge make my bed, an tye up my head, Woe’s me for his hame-comin!’

13 She lived a year and day, wi mickle grief and wae, The doctors were wi her dealin; Within a crack, her heart it brack, An the letters they went to London.

14 He gae the table wi his foot, An koupd it wi his knee, Gared silver cup an easer dish In flinders flee.

15 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘I wad I had lost a’ the lands o Aboyne Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

16 He called on his best serving-man, I wat the caed him Peter Gordon: ‘Gae get our horses saddled wi speed, Woe’s me for our hame-comin!

17 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ‘For we will a’ be in black, fra the hose to the hat, Woe’s me for bonny Margat Irvine!

18 ‘We must to the North, to bury her corps, Alas for our hame-comin! I rather I had lost a’ the lands o Aboyne Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.’

* * * * *

D

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 17; in the handwriting of Richard Heber.

1 The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to Lonon gone, An a’ his gallan grooms wie him, But, for a’ the ribbons that hing at her hat, He has left his fair lady behind him.

2 He had not been in London toun A month but barely one, O, Till the letters an the senes they came to her hand That he was in love with another woman.

3 ‘O what think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says, ‘What think ye o my lord at London? What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says, ‘He’s in love wie another woman.’

4 That lady lookd out at her closet-window, An saw the gallan grooms coming; ‘What think ye o this, my bonny boy?’ she says, ‘For yonder the gallan grooms coming.’

5 Stately, stately steppit she doun To welcome the gallan grooms from London: ‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, gallan grooms a’; Is the guid Earl o Boyn a coming?

6 ‘What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’? What news have ye from London? What news, what news, my gallan grooms a’? Is the guid Earl o Boyn a-coming?’

7 ‘No news, no news,’ said they gallan grooms a’, ‘No news hae we from London; No news, no news,’ said the gallan grooms a’, ‘But the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming, An he’s not two miles from the palace-gates, An he’s fast coming hame from London.’

8 ‘Ye stable-grooms a’, be ready at the ca, An have a’ your stables in shening, An sprinkle them over wie some costly water, Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

9 ‘Ye pretty cooks a’, be ready at the ca, An have a’ your spits in turning, An see that ye spare neither cost nor pains, Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

10 ‘Ye servant-maids, ye’ll trim up the beds, An wipe a’ the rooms oer wie linnen, An put a double daisy at every stair-head, Since the guid Earl o Boyn’s a coming.

11 ‘Ye’ll call to me my chambermaid, An Jean, my gentlewoman, An they’ll dress me in some fine array. Since the good Earl o Boyn’s a coming.’

12 Her stockens were o the good fine silk, An her shirt it was o the camric, An her goun it was a’ giltit oer, An she was a’ hung oer wie rubbies.

13 That lady lookd out at her closet-window, An she thought she saw him coming: ‘Go fetch to me some fine Spanish wine, That I may drink his health that’s a coming.’

14 Stately, stately steppit she doun To welcome her lord from London, An as she walked through the close She’s peed him from his horse.

15 ‘Ye’re welcome, ye’re welcome, my dearest dear, Ye’re three times welcome from London!’ ‘If I be as welcome as ye say, Ye’ll kiss me for my coming; Come kiss me, come kiss me, my dearest dear, Come kiss me, my bonny Peggy Harboun.’

16 O she threw her arms aroun his neck, To kiss him for his coming: ‘If I had stayed another day, I’d been in love wie another woman.’

17 She turned her about wie a very stingy look, She was as sorry as any woman; She threw a napkin out-oure her face, Says, Gang kiss your whore at London.

18 ‘Ye’ll mount an go, my gallan grooms a’, Ye’ll mount and back again to London; Had I known this to be the answer my Meggy’s gein me, I had stayed some longer at London.’

19 ‘Go, Jack, my livery boy,’ she says, ‘Go ask if he’ll take me wie him; An he shall hae nae cumre o me But mysel an my waiting-woman.’

20 ‘O the laus o London the’re very severe, They are not for a woman; An ye are too low in coach for to ride, I’m your humble servant, madam.

21 ‘My friends they were a’ angry at me For marrying ane o the house o Harvey; And ye are too low in coach for to ride, I’m your humble servant, lady.

22 ‘Go saddle for me my steeds,’ he says, ‘Go saddle them soon and softly, For I maun awa to the Bogs o the Geich, An speak wi the Marquess o Huntly.’

23 The guid Earl o Boyn’s awa to London gone, An a’ his gallan gro[o]ms wie him; But his lady fair he’s left behind Both a sick an a sorry woman.

24 O many were the letters she after him did send, A’ the way back again to London, An in less than a twelvemonth her heart it did break, For the loss o her lord at London.

25 He was not won well to the Bogs o the Geich, Nor his horses scarcely batit, Till the letters and the senes they came to his hand That his lady was newly strickit.

26 ‘O is she dead? or is she sick? O woe’s me for my coming! I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the Geich Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.’

27 He took the table wi his foot, Made a’ the room to tremble: ‘I’d rather a lost a’ the Bogs o the Geich Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Harboun.

28 ‘Oh an alas! an O woe’s me! An wo to the Marquess o Huntly. Wha causd the Earl o Boyn prove sae very unkin To a true an a beautifu lady!’

29 There were fifteen o the bravest gentlemen, An the bravest o the lords o London, They went a’ to attend her burial-day, But the Earl o Boyn could not go wi them.

* * * * *

E

Harris MS., fol. 21 b; from the recitation of Mrs Harris.

1 ‘My maidens fair, yoursels prepare.’

2 You may weel knaw by her hair, wi the diamonds sae rare, That the Earl of Aboyne was comin.

3 ‘My minstrels all, be at my call, Haud a’ your rooms a ringin, . . . . . . . For the Earl of Aboyne is comin.’

4 ‘Tomorrow soud hae been my bonnie waddin-day, If I had staid in London.’

5 She turned her aboot wi an angry look, An sic an angry woman! ‘Gin tomorrow soud hae been your bonnie waddin-day, Gae back to your miss in Lunnon.’

6 For mony a day an year that lady lived in care, An doctors wi her dealin, Till just in a crack her very heart did brak, An her letters went on to Lunnon.

7 There waur four-an-twenty o the noblest lords That Lonnon could aford him, A’ clead in black frae the saidle to the hat, To convey the corpse o Peggy Ewan.

8 ‘I’d rather hae lost a’ the lands o Aboyne Than lost my pretty Peggy Ewan.’

* * * * *

F

Motherwell’s MS., p. 635; “from the recitation of Margaret Black, wife of Archie Black, sailor in Ayr, a native of Aberdeenshire.”

1 The Earl of Aboyne is to London gane, And a’ his nobles with him; He’s left his lady him behin, He’s awa, to remain in Lundon.

2 She’s called upon her waiting-maid To busk her in her claithin; Her sark was o cambrick very fine, And her bodice was the red buckskin.

3 Her stockings were o silk sae fine, And her shoon o the fine cordan; Her coat was o the guid green silk, Turnit up wi a siller warden.

4 Her goun was also o the silk, Turned up wi a siller warden, And stately tripped she doun the stair, As she saw her gude lord comin.

5 She gaed thro the close and grippit his horse, Saying, Ye’re welcome hame frae London! ‘Gin that be true, come kiss me now, Come kiss me for my coming.

6 ‘For blythe and cantie may ye be, And thank me for my comin, For the morn would hae been my wedding-day Had I remained in London.’

7 She turnd her richt and round about, She was a waefu woman: ‘Gin the morn would hae been your weddin-day, Gae kiss your whores in London.’

8 He turned him richt and round about, He was sorry for his comin: ‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’, The morn we’ll dine in London.’

9 She lived a year in meikle wae, And the doctors dealin wi her; At lang and last her heart it brast And the letters gade to London.

10 And when he saw the seals o black, He fell in a deadly weeping; He said, She’s dead whom I loed best, And she had my heart in keeping.

11 ‘Loup on your steeds, ye nobles a’, I’m sorry for our comin; Frae our horse to our hat, we’ll gae in black, And we’ll murn for Peggy Irwine.’

12 They rade on but stap or stay Till they came to her father’s garden, Whare fifty o the bravest lords Were convoying Peggy Irwine.

* * * * *

G

Motherwell’s MS., p. 131.

1 The Earl Aboyne to London has gane, And all his nobles with him; For a’ the braw ribbands he wore at his hat, He has left his lady behind him.

2 She’s called on her little foot-page, And Jean, her gentlewoman; Said, Fill to me a full pint of wine, And I’ll drink it at my lord’s coming.

3 ‘You’re welcome, you’re welcome, you’re welcome,’ she says, ‘You’re welcome home from London!’ ‘If I be welcome as you now say, Come kiss me, my bonnie Peggy Irvine.

4 ‘Come kiss me, come kiss me, my lady,’ he says, ‘Come kiss me for my coming, For the morn should hae been my wedding-day, Had I staid any longer in London.’

5 She turned about with an angry look, Said, Woe’s me for your coming! If the morn should hae been your wedding-day, Go back to your whore in London.

6 He’s called on his little foot-page, Said, Saddle both sure and swiftly, And I’l away to the Bogs o the Gay, And speak wi the Marquis o Huntly.

7 She has called on her little foot-page, Said, See if he’ll take me with him; And he shall hae nae mair cumber o me But mysell and my servant-woman.

8 ‘O London streets they are too strait, They are not for a woman, And it is too low to ride in coach wi me With your humble servant-woman.’

9 He had not been at the Bogs o the Gay, Nor yet his horse was baited, Till a boy with a letter came to his hand That his lady was lying streekit.

10 ‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he says, ‘O woe’s me for my coming! I had rather lost the Bogs o the Gay Or I’d lost my bonny Peggy Irvine.

11 ‘O woe! O woe! O woe!’ he said, ‘O woe to the Marquis o Huntly, Gard the Earl of Aboyne prove very unkind To a good and a dutiful lady!’

* * * * *

H

Campbell MSS, II, 105.