ROB ROY_The English and Scottish popular ballads, volume 4 (of 5)

#A.# Skene MS., p. 44.

#B.# ‘Rob Roy,’ Kinloch MSS, I, 343.

#C.# ‘Rob Roy MacGregor,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 93.

#D.# ‘Rob Roy,’ “Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No

147, Abbotsford.

#E.# ‘Rob Roy,’ Pitcairn’s MSS, III, 41.

#F.# ‘Rob Roy,’ Campbell MSS, II, 229.

#G.# ‘Rob Roy,’ Cromek’s Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 199.

#H.# Sir Walter Scott’s Introduction to “Rob Roy,” Appendix, No V.

#I.# ‘Rob Roy,’ Campbell’s MSS, II, 58.

#J.# ‘Rob Oig,’ A Garland of Old Historical Ballads, p. 10, Aungervyle

Society, 1881.

#K.# ‘Rob Roy,’ Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 93.

The hero of this ballad was the youngest of the five sons of the Rob Roy

who has been immortalized by Sir Walter Scott, and was known as Robert

Oig, young, or junior. When a mere boy (only twelve years old, it is

said) he shot a man mortally whom he considered to have intruded on his

mother’s land, and for not appearing to underlie the law for this murder

he was outlawed in 1736. He had fled to the continent, and there he

enlisted in the British army, and was wounded and made prisoner at

Fontenoy in 1745. He was exchanged, returned to Scotland and obtained a

discharge from service, and, though still under ban, was able to effect

a marriage with a woman of respectable family. She lived but a few

years, and after her death, whether spontaneously or under the influence

of his brother James, a man of extraordinary hardihood, Rob Oig formed a

plan of bettering his own fortune, and incidentally that of his kin, by

a marriage of the Sabine fashion with a woman of means. The person

selected was Jean Key, who had been two months the widow of John Wright.

She was but nineteen years of age, and was living with her mother at

Edinbelly, in Stirlingshire, and her property is said to have been, not

the twenty thousand pounds of some of the ballads, but some sixteen or

eighteen thousand marks.

On the night of December 8, 1750, Rob Oig, accompanied by his brothers

James and Duncan and others, first placing guards at the door and

windows, to prevent escape from within and help from without, entered

the house of Jean Key, and not finding her, because she had taken alarm

and hidden herself in a closet, obliged the mother to produce her

daughter, under threats “to murder every person in the family, or to

burn the house and every person in it alive.” Jean Key, on being brought

out, was told by James MacGregor that the party had come to marry her to

Robert, his brother.” Upon her desiring to be allowed till next morning,

or some few hours, to deliberate upon the answer she was to give to so

unexpected and sudden a proposal as a marriage betwixt her, then not two

months a widow, and a man with whom she had no manner of acquaintance,”

after some little expostulation, they laid hands upon her, dragged her

out of doors, tied her on the back of a horse, and carried her first to

a house at Buchanan, six miles from Edinbelly, thence to Rowerdennan,

“thence, by water, to some part of the Highlands about the upper part of

Loch Lomond, out of the reach of her friends and relations, where she

was detained in captivity and carried from place to place for upwards of

three months.” At Rowerdennan, or further north, a priest read the

marriage-service while the resolute James held up the young woman before

him, and declared Rob Oig and her to be man and wife.

The rest of the story does not come into the ballad, but it may be added

that both the military and the civil power took the matter in hand; that

the MacGregors found it necessary to release their captive (who died,

but not of the violence she had undergone, ten months after she was

taken away); that James MacGregor was brought to trial in July, 1752,

for hamesucken (invasion of a private house), forcible abduction of a

woman, and constraining her to a marriage, was convicted of a part of

the charge but not of the last count, and while the court had the

verdict under consideration made his escape from Edinburgh castle; that

Rob Oig was apprehended the following year, tried and condemned to

death, and was executed in February, 1754.[126]

We may easily believe that, as Scott says, the imagination of

half-civilized Highlanders was not much shocked at the idea of winning a

wife in a violent way. It had been common, and they may naturally have

wondered why it should seem so particular in their instance. It is

certain that Jean Key did not receive the sympathy of all of her own

sex. A lady of much celebrity has told us that it is safest in matrimony

to begin with a little aversion, and there were those in Jean Key’s day,

and after, who thought it mere silliness to make a coil about a little

compulsion. “It is not a great many years,” Sir Walter Scott testifies,

“since a respectable woman, above the lower rank of life, expressed

herself very warmly to the author on his taking the freedom to censure

the behaviour of the MacGregors on the occasion in question. She said,

‘that there was no use in giving a bride too much choice upon such

occasions; that the marriages were happiest lang syne which had been

done off hand.’ Finally, she averred that her ‘own mother had never seen

her father till the night he brought her up from the Lennox with ten

head of black cattle, and there had not been a happier couple in the

country.’”

The ballad adheres to fact rather closely; indeed a reasonably good

“dittay” could be made out of it. The halt at Buchanan is mentioned #B#

8, #C# 10, #K# 14; the road would be through Drymen, as in #C# 10, #K#

13; and Balmaha, #H# 2, is a little beyond Buchanan. Ballyshine is

substituted for Buchanan in #E# 6, #J# 4. At Buchanan, or Ballyshine

(‘as they came in by Drimmen town, and in by Edingarry,’ #K# 13), a

cloak and gown are bought (fetched) for the young woman to be married

in, #B# 8, #C# 10, #F# 4. It is a cotton gown, #E# 6, coat and gown, #A#

8; in cotton gown she is married, #J# 4; meaning probably that she was

married in a night-gown, having been roused from her bed. It is at

Buchanan, or Ballyshine, that she is married. Four held her up to the

priest, #A#, #C#, #F# (two, #D#, #I#, #K#, three, #E#, #J#, six, #B#),

four laid her in bed, #A#, #B#, #E#, #F#, #I#, #J#, #K# (two, #C#, #D#).

Rob Roy is said to come from Drunkie (the home of his first wife), #J#

1; to come over the Loch of Lynn, #G# 2. Jean Key’s abode seems to be

called White House (Wright?) in #A# 2, but Blackhills, #C# 2, and in #K#

2 Jean Key is called Blackhill’s daughter. Blackhill is apparently a

corruption of Mitchell, Jean’s mother’s maiden name. The mother is

called Jean Mitchell in #J# 2.

In #A# 8, Rob Roy’s party are wrongly said to tarry at Stirling. In #J#

2, Glengyle is said to go with him to steal Jean Mitchell’s daughter.

Glengyle, Rob Oig’s cousin, and chief of his immediate family was, for a

MacGregor, an orderly man,[127] and did not countenance the proceeding.

#J# 6, 7 belong to the ballad of ‘Eppie Morrie,’ No 223.

Rob Oig puts Jean Key’s fortune at £20,000, #A# 13, #C# 19; 50,000

merks, #D# 14; 30,000, #K# 23; 20,000, which was not very far from

right, #E# 10. The reading in #B# 15 is a manifest corruption of thirty

thousand merks.

Old Rob Roy is in several copies spoken of as still alive. Though the

time both of his birth and death is not accurately known, this was

certainly not the case.

#H# is translated by Fiedler, Geschichte der schottischen

Liederdichtung, I, 52.

* * * * *

Skene MS., p. 44; from recitation in the north of Scotland, 1802–3.

Rob Roy, frae the high Highlands,

Came to the Lawlan border;

It was to steel a lady away,

To keep his Highland house in order.

As he came in by White House,

He sent nae ane before him;

She wad hae secured the house,

For she did ay abhor him.

Twenty men surrount the house, an twenty they went in,

They found her wi her mither;

Wi sighs an cries an watery eyes

They parted frae ane anither.

‘O will ye be my dear?’ he says,

‘Or will ye be my honnie?

O will ye be my wedded wife?

I lee you best of ony.’

‘I winna be your dear,’ [she says,]

‘Nor will I be your honnie,

Nor will I be your wedded wife;

Ye lee me for my money.’

. . . . by the way,

This lady aftimes fainted;

Says, Woe be to my cursed gold,

This road for me’s invented!

He gave her no time for to dress

Like ladies when they’re ridin,

But set her on hie horseback,

Himsel was ay beside her.

Whan they came to the Black House,

And at Stirling tarried,

There he bought her coat an gown,

But she would not [be] married.

Four men held her to the priest,

An four they did her bed,

Wi sighs an cries an watery eyes

Whan she by him was laid.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content wi me, lady;

Now ye are my wedded wife

Untill the day ye die, lady.

‘My father was a Highlan laird,

McGrigor was his name, lady;

A’ the country roun about

They dreadit his great fame, lady.

‘He kept a hedge about his lands,

A prickle to his foes, lady,

An every ane that did him wrang,

He took him by the nose, lady.

‘My father he delights in nout and goats,

An me in horse and sheep, lady;

You an twenty thousan pounds

Makes me a man complete, lady.

‘You’re welcome to this Highlan lan,

It is my native plain, lady;

Think nae mair of gauin back,

But tak it for your hame, lady.

‘I’m gauin, [I’m gauin,]

I’m gauin to France, lady;

Whan I come back

I’ll learn ye a dance, lady.

‘Set your foot, [set your foot,]

Set your foot to mine, lady;

Think nae mair of gauin back,

But tak it for your hame, lady.’

* * * * *

Kinloch MSS, I, 343.

Rob Roy frae the Hielands cam

Unto the Lawland border,

And he has stown a ladie fair,

To hand his house in order.

He guarded the house round about,

Himsel went in and found her out,

She hung close by her mither;

Wi dolefu cries and watery eyes

They parted frae each ither.

‘Gang wi me, my dear,’ he says,

‘Gang and be my honey;

Gang and be my wedded wife,

I loe ye best o onie.’

‘I winna gang wi you,’ she says,

‘I winna be your honey;

I winna be your wedded wife;

Ye loe me for my money.’

He gied na her na time to dress

As ladies whan they’re brides,

But hurried her awa wi speed,

And rowd her in his plaids.

He gat her up upon a horse,

Himsel lap on ahind her;

And they’re awa to the Hieland hills;

Her friends they canna find her.

As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,

This lady aften fainted,

Saying, Wae be to my cursed gowd,

This road to me invented!

As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,

And at Buchanan tarried,

He bought to her baith cloak and goun,

Yet she wadna be married.

Six held her up afore the priest,

Four laid her in a bed, O;

Maist mournfully she wept and cried

Whan she bye him was laid, O.

‘O be content, be content,

Be content to stay, ladie;

For now ye are my wedded wife

Unto your dying day, ladie.

‘Rob Roy was my father calld,

M’Gregor was his name, ladie;

And in a’ the country whare he dwalt

He exceeded ae in fame, ladie.

‘He was a hedge unto his friends,

A heckle to his faes, ladie;

And ilka ane that did him wrang,

He beat him on the neis, ladie.

‘I’m as bold, I am as bold

As my father was afore, ladie;

Ilka ane that does me wrang

Sall feel my gude claymore, ladie.

‘There neer was frae Lochlomond west

That eer I did him fear, ladie;

For, if his person did escape,

I seizd upon his gear, ladie.

‘My father delights in horse and kye,

In sheep and goats and a’, ladie,

And thee wi me and thirty merks

Will mak me a man fu braw, ladie.

‘I hae been in foreign lands,

And servd the king o France, ladie;

We will get the bagpipes,

And we’ll hae a dance, ladie.’

* * * * *

Motherwell’s MS., p. 93.

Rob Roy’s from the Hielands come

Unto our Lowland border,

And he has stolen a lady away,

To keep his house in order.

Rob Roy’s come to Blackhill’s gate,

Twenty men his arms did carry,

And he has stolen a lady away,

On purpose her to marry.

None knew till he surrounded the house,

No tidings came before him,

Or else she had been gone away,

For she did still abhor him.

All doors and windows guarded were,

None could the plot discover;

Himself went in and found her out,

Professing how he loved her.

‘Come go with me, my dear,’ he said,

‘Come go with me, my honey,

And you shall be my wedded wife,

I love you best of onie.’

‘I will not go with you,’ she said,

‘Nor will I be your honey;

I neer shall be your wedded wife,

You love me for my money.’

But he her drew amongst his crew,

She holding by her mother;

With mournful cries and watery eyes

They parted from each other.

No time they gave her to be dressed

As ladies when they’re brides, O,

But hurried her away in haste;

They rowed her in their plaids, O.

As they went over hills and rocks,

The lady often fainted;

Says, Wae may it be, my cursed money,

This road to me invented!

They passed away by Drymen town,

And at Buchanan tarried;

They bought to her a cloak and gown,

Yet she would not be married.

But without consent they joined their hands;

By law ought not to carry;

The priest his zeal it was so hot

On her will he would not tarry.

Four held her up before the priest,

Two laid her in the bed, O;

Och, mournfully she weeped and cried

When she by him was laid, O.

‘Now you’re come to the Highland hills,

Out of your native clime, lady,

Never think of going back,

But take this for your hame, lady.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content to stay, lady;

Now ye are my wedded wife

Unto your dying day, lady.

‘O Rob Roy was my father called,

But McGregor was his name, lady;

In all the country far and near

None did exceed his fame, lady.

‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold,

I’m as bold as he, lady;

In France and Ireland I’ll dance and fight,

And from them take the gree, lady.

‘He was a hedge about his friends,

But a heckle to his faes, lady,

And every one that did him wrong,

He took them owre the nose, lady.

‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold,

I’m as bold, and more, lady;

Every one that does me wrong

Shall feel my good claymore, lady.

‘My father he has stots and ewes,

And he has goats and sheep, lady,

But you and twenty thousand punds

Makes me a man complete, lady.’

* * * * *

“Scotch Ballads, Materials for Border Minstrelsy,” No 147,

Abbotsford; in a handwriting of the early part of this century.

Rob Roy from the Highlands came

Unto the Lowland border;

It was to steal a ladie away,

To keep his house in order.

He gae her nae time to dress herself

Like a lady that was to be married,

But he hoisd her out among his crew,

And rowd her in his plaidie.

‘Will ye go wi me, my dear?’ he says,

‘Will ye go wi me, my honey?

Will ye go wi me, my dear?’ he says,

‘For I love you best of ony.’

‘I winna be your dear,’ she says,

‘Nor I’ll never be your honey;

I’ll never be your wedded wife,

For you love me but for my money.’

He hoisd her out among his crew,

She holding by her mother;

Wi watry eyes and mournfu cries

They parted from each other.

As they gaed oer yon high hill,

The ladie often fainted;

‘Oh, wae be to my gold,’ she said,

‘This road for me invented!’

Two held her up before the priest,

And two put her to bed,

Wi mournful cries and watry eyes

As she lay by his side.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content wi me, ladie,

For now you are my wedded wife

Until the day ye die, ladie.

‘Rob Roy was my father calld,

McGrigor was his name, ladie,

And a’ the country round about

Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie.

‘You do not think yourself a match

For such a one as I, ladie;

But I been east and I been west,

And saird the king of France, ladie.

‘And now we hear the bag-pipe play,

And we maun hae a dance, ladie,

And a’ the country round about

Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie.

‘Shake your foot, shake your foot,

Shake your foot wi me, ladie,

For now you are my wedded bride

Until the day ye die, ladie.

‘My father dealt in cows and ewes,

Likewise in goats and sheep, ladie,

And a’ the country round about

Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie.

‘And ye have fifty thousand marks,

Makes me a man compleat, ladie;

Why mayn’t I maid

May I not ride in state, ladie?

‘My father was a Highland laird,

Altho he be now dead, ladie,

And a’ the country round about

Has heard of Roy’s fame, ladie.’

* * * * *

Pitcairn’s MSS, III, 41; “from tradition (Widow Stevenson).”

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam

Unto our Scottish border,

And he has stown a lady fair,

To hand his house in order.

And when he cam he surrounded the house;

Twenty men their arms did carry;

And he has stown this lady fair,

On purpose her for to marry.

And whan he cam he surrounded the house;

No tidings there cam before him,

Or else the lady would have been gone,

For still she did abhor him.

Wi murnfu cries and watery eyes,

Fast hauding by her mother,

Wi murnfu cries and watery eyes

They parted frae each other.

Nae time he gied her to be dressed

As ladys do when they’re bride, O,

But he hastened and hurried her awa,

And he rowd her in his plaid, O.

They rade till they cam to Ballyshine,

At Ballyshine they tarried;

He bought to her a cotton gown,

Yet would she never be married.

Three held her up before the priest,

Four carried her to bed, O,

Wi watery eyes and murnfu sighs

When she behind was laid, O.

‘O be content, be content,

Be content to stay, lady,

For you are my wedded wife

Unto my dying day, lady.

Be content, _etc._

‘My father is Rob Roy called,

MacGregor is his name, lady;

In all the country whare he dwells,

He does succeed the fame, lady.

Be content, _etc._

‘My father he has cows and ewes,

And goats he has anew, lady,

And you and twenty thousand merks

Will mak me a man complete, lady.’

Be content, _etc._

* * * * *

Campbell MSS, II, 229.

Rob Roy frae the Highlands came

Unto the Lawland border,

And he has stolen a lady away,

To hand his house in order.

He’s pu’d her out amang his men,

She holding by her mother;

With mournfu cries and watery eyes

They parted frae each other.

When they came to the heigh hill-gate,

O it’s aye this lady fainted:

‘O wae! what has that cursed monie

That’s thrown to me invented?’

When they came to the heigh hill-gate,

And at Buchanan tarried,

They fetchd to her a cloak and gown,

Yet wad she not be married.

Four held her up before the priest,

Four laid her on her bed,

With mournfu cries and watery eyes

When she by him was laid.

‘I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind,

I’ll be kind to thee, lady,

And all the country for thy sake

Shall surely favoured be, lady.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content and stay, lady;

Now ye are my weded wife

Until your dying-day, ladie.

‘Rob Roy was my father called,

McGregor was his name, lady;

In every country where he was,

He did exceed the fame, lady.

‘He was a hedge about his friends,

A terror to his foes, lady,

And every one that did him wrong,

He hit them oer the nose, lady.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content and stay, lady;

Now ye are my wedded wife

Until your dying-day, lady.

‘We will go, we will go,

We will go to France, lady,

Where I before for safety fled,

And there wee’l get a dance, lady.

‘Shake a fit, shake a fit,

Shake a fit to me, lady;

Now ye are my wedded wife

Until your dying-day, lady.

* * * * *

Cromek, Select Scotish Songs, 1810, II, 194, 199; sent by Burns to

William Tytler, in a letter.

Rob Roy from the Highlands cam

Unto the Lawlan border,

To steal awa a gay ladie,

To hand his house in order.

He cam owre the Lock o Lynn,

Twenty men his arms did carry;

Himsel gaed in an fand her out,

Protesting he would marry.

‘O will ye gae wi me’? he says,

‘Or will ye be my honey?

Or will ye be my wedded wife?

For I love you best of any.’

‘I winna gae wi you,’ she says,

‘Nor will I be your honey,

Nor will I be your wedded wife;

You love me for my money.’

* * * * * *

But he set her on a coal-black steed,

Himsel lap on behind her,

An he’s awa to the Highland hills,

Whare her friens they canna find her.

* * * * * *

‘Rob Roy was my father ca’d,

MacGregor was his name, ladie;

He led a band o heroes bauld,

An I am here the same, ladie.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content to stay, ladie;

For thou art my wedded wife

Until thy dying day, ladie.

‘He was a hedge unto his friens,

A heckle to his foes, ladie,

Every one that durst him wrang,

He took him by the nose, ladie.

‘I’m as bold, I’m as bold,

I’m as bold, an more, ladie;

He that daurs dispute my word

Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie.’

* * * * *

Sir Walter Scott’s Introduction to his novel “ Rob Roy,” Appendix,

No V, Waverley Novels, Cadell, 1846, VII, cxxxiii; “from memory.”

Rob Roy is frae the Hielands come

Down to the Lowland border,

And he has stolen that lady away,

To haud his house in order.

He set her on a milk-white steed,

Of none he stood in awe,

Untill they reached the Hieland hills,

Aboon the Balmaha.

Saying, Be content, be content,

Be content with me, lady;

Where will ye find in Lennox land

Sae braw a man as me, lady?

‘Rob Roy he was my father called,

MacGregor was his name, lady;

A’ the country, far and near,

Have heard MacGregor’s fame, lady.

‘He was a hedge about his friends,

A heckle to his foes, lady;

If any man did him gainsay,

He felt his deadly blows, lady.

‘I am as bold, I am as bold,

I am as bold, and more, lady;

Any man that doubts my word

May try my gude claymore, lady.

‘Then be content, be content,

Be content with me, lady,

For now you are my wedded wife

Until the day ye die, lady.’

* * * * *

Campbell MSS, II, 58.

Rob Roy is frae the Highlands come

Unto the Scottish border,

And he has stolen a lady gay,

To keep his house in order.

He and his crew surrounded the house;

No tidings came before him,

Or else I’m sure she wad been gone,

For she did still abhore him.

He drew her thro amang his crew,

She holding by her mother;

With watery eyes and mournfu cries

They parted from each other.

He’s set her on a milk-white steed,

Himself jumped on behind her,

And he’s awa to the Highland hills,

And her friends they couldna find her.

‘O be content, be content,

O be content and stay, lady,

And never think of going back

Until your dying day, lady.’

As they went over hills and dales,

This lady oftimes fainted;

Cries, Wae be to that cursed money

This road to me invented!

‘O dinna think, O dinna think,

O dinna think to ly, lady;

O think na ye yersell weel matchd

On sic a lad as me, lady?

‘What think ye o my coal-black hair,

But and my twinkling een, lady,

A little bonnet on my head,

And cocket up aboon, lady?

‘O dinna think, O dinna think,

O dinna think to ly, lady;

O think nae ye yersell weel matchd

On sic a lad as me, lady?

‘Rob Roy was my father calld,

But Gregory was his name, lady;

There was neither duke nor lord

Could eer succeed his fame, lady.

‘O may not I, may not I,

May not I succeed, lady?

My old father did so design;

O now but he is dead, lady.

‘My father was a hedge about his friends,

A heckle to his foes, lady,

And every one that did him wrang,

He hit them oer the nose, lady.

‘I [’m] as bold, I [’m] as bold,

I [’m] as bold, and more, lady,

And every one that does me wrong

Shall feel my good claymore, lady.

‘You need not fear our country cheer,

Ye’se hae good entertain, lady;

For ye shall hae a feather-bed,

Both lang and broad and green, lady.

‘Come, be content, come, be content,

Come, be content and stay, lady,

And never think of going back

Until yer dying day, lady.’

Twa held her up before the priest,

Four laid her in her bed,

And sae mournfully she weeping cry’d

When she by him was laid!

‘Come, dinna think, come, dinna think,

Come, dinna think to ly, lady;

You’ll surely think yersell weel matchd

On sic a lad as me, lady.

‘Come, be content, come, be content,

Come, be content and stay, lady,

And never think of going back

Until your dying day, lady.’

* * * * *

A Garland of Old Historical Ballads, p. 10, Aungervyle Society,

1881, from a manuscript which had belonged to Maidment.

From Drunkie in the Highlands,

With four and twenty men,

Rob Oig is cam, a lady fair

To carry from the plain.

Glengyle and James with him are cam,

To steal Jean Mitchell’s dauchter,

And they have borne her far away,

To haud his house in order.

And he has taen Jean Key’s white hand,

And torn her grass-green sleeve,

And rudely tyed her on his horse,

At her friends asked nae leave.

They rode till they cam to Ballyshine,

At Ballyshine they tarried;

Nae time he gave her to be dressed,

In cotton gown her married.

Three held her up before the priest,

Four carried her to bed, O;

Wi watery eyes and mournfu sighs

She in bed wi Rob was laid, O.

‘Haud far awa from me, Rob Oig,

Haud far awa from me!

Before I lose my maidenhead,

I’ll try my strength with thee.’

She’s torn the cap from off her head

And thrown it to the way,

But ere she lost her maidenhead

She fought with him till day.

‘Wae fa, Rob Oig, upon your head!

For you have ravished me,

And taen from me my maidenhead;

O would that I could dee!’

‘My father he is Rob Roy called,

And he has cows and ewes,

And you are now my wedded wife,

And can nae longer chuse.’

* * * * *

Laing’s Thistle of Scotland, p. 93; compounded, with some

alterations, from two copies, one from Miss Harper, Kildrummy, the

other from the Rev. R. Scott, Glenbucket.

Rob Roy frae the Highlands came

Doun to our Lowland border;

It was to steal a lady away,

To haud his house in order.

With four-and-twenty Highland men,

His arms for to carry,

He came to steal Blackhill’s daughter,

That lady for to marry.

Nae are kend o his comming,

Nae tiddings came before him,

Else the lady woud hae been away,

For still she did abhore him.

They guarded doors and windows round,

Nane coud their plot discover;

Rob Roy enterd then alane,

Expressing how he lovd her.

‘Come go with me, my dear,’ he said,

‘Come go with me, my honey,

And ye shall be my wedded wife,

For I love you best of any.’

‘I will not go with you,’ she said,

‘I’ll never be your honey;

I will not be your wedded wife,

Your love is for my money.’

They woud noc stay till she was drest

As ladies when thei’r brides, O,

But hurried her awa in haste,

And rowd her in their plaids, O.

He drew her out among his crew,

She holding by her mother;

With mournful cries and watry eyes

They parted from each other.

He placed her upon a steed,

Then jumped on behind her,

And they are to the Highlands gone,

Her friends they cannot find her.

With many a heavy sob and wail,

They saw, as they stood by her,

She was so guarded round about

Her friends could not come nigh her.

Her mournful cries were often heard,

But no aid came unto her;

They guarded her on every side

That they could not rescue her.

Over rugged hills and dales

They rode; the lady fainted;

Cried, Woe be to my cursed gold

That has such roads invented!

As they came in by Drimmen town

And in by Edingarry,

He bought to her both cloak and gown,

Still thinking she would marry.

As they went down yon bonny burn-side,

They at Buchanan tarried;

He clothed her there as a bride,

Yet she would not be married.

Without consent they joind their hands,

Which law ought not to carry;

His passion waxed now so hot

He could no longer tarry.

Two held her up before the priest,

Four laid her in the bed then,

With sighs and cries and watery eyes

When she was laid beside him.

‘Ye are come to our Highland hills,

Far frae thy native clan, lady;

Never think of going back,

But take it for thy home, lady.

‘I’ll be kind, I’ll be kind,

I’ll be kind to thee, lady;

All the country, for thy sake,

Shall surely favourd be, lady.

‘Rob Roy was my father calld,

MacGregor was his name, lady,

And all the country where he dwelt

He did exceed for fame, lady.

‘Now or then, now or then,

Now or then deny, lady;

Don’t you think yourself well of

With a pretty man like I, lady?

‘He was a hedge about his friends,

A heckle to his foes, lady,

And all that did him any wrong,

He took them by the nose, lady.

‘Don’t think, don’t think,

Don’t think I lie, lady,

Ye may know the truth by what

Was done in your country, lady.

‘My father delights in cows and horse,

Likewise in goats and sheep, lady,

And you with thirty thousand marks

Makes me a man complete, lady.

‘Be content, be content,

Be content and stay, lady;

Now ye are my wedded wife

Untill your dying day, lady.

‘Your friends will all seek after me,

But I’ll give them the scorn, lady;

Before dragoons come oer the Forth,

We shall be doun by Lorn, lady.

‘I am bold, I am bold,

But bolder than before, lady;

Any one dare come this way

Shall feel my good claymore, lady.

‘We shall cross the raging seas,

We shall go to France, lady;

There we’ll gar the piper play,

And then we’ll have a dance, lady.

‘Shake a foot, shake a foot,

Shake a foot wi me, lady,

And ye shall be my wedded wife

Until the day ye die, lady.’

* * * * *

#A.#

6^{1,2}. _In one line_: By the way this lady aftimes fainted.

_Cf._ #B# 7, #C# 9, _etc._

12^2. prickle: _a bad reading for_ heckle.