‘The Coble o Cargill,’ Motherwell’s MS., p. 80; ‘The Weary Coble o
Cargill,’ Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 230. Communicated to
Motherwell by William George, tenant in Cambus Michael, Perthshire,
who took it from the recitation of an old woman.
Stobhall is on the left bank of the Tay, eight miles above Perth, in
Cargill parish, and Cargill is a little further up. Balathy is opposite
Cargill, and Kercock is higher up the river on the right bank. The local
tradition, as given by Motherwell in his manuscript and his book, is
that the butler of Stobhall had a leman both at Kercock and at Balathy.
Upon an occasion when the butler had gone to Kercock, the lass of
Balathy scuttled the coble, which he had left below, “and waited his
return, deeming that her suspicions of his infidelity would be well
founded if he took the boat without visiting her in passing.” The butler
took the boat without stopping at Balathy, and in her sight the weary
coble sank. Local tradition in such cases seldom means more than a
theory which people have formed to explain a preëxisting ballad. The
jealousy of the lass of Balathy has, in the ballad, passed the point at
which confirmation would be waited for. She has many a time watched late
for her chance to bore the coble, and she bores it ‘wi gude will.’
St. 14 is a commonplace which has been already several times noted.
The Rev. William Marshall’s Historic Scenes in Perthshire, Edinburgh,
1879, p. 246, gives us a “modern” version of this ballad; that is, one
written over in magazine style. This is repeated in Robert Ford’s Auld
Scots Ballants, 1889, p. 152. The Perthshire Antiquarian Miscellany, by
Robert S. Fittis, Perth, 1875, p. 466, cites some stanzas from another
ballad, composed by one James Beattie, journeyman-mason, but represented
as having been taken down verbatim from the mouth of an old man. In
these pieces the lass of Balathy has the name Jean, Jeanie Low (Low or
Gow, according to Ford, p. 149).[142]
* * * * *
1
David Drummond’s destinie,
Gude man o appearance o Cargill;
I wat his blude rins in the flude,
Sae sair against his parents’ will.
2
She was the lass o Balathy toun,
And he the butler o Stobhall,
And mony a time she wauked late
To bore the coble o Cargill.
3
His bed was made in Kercock ha,
Of gude clean sheets and of [the] hay;
He wudna rest ae nicht therein,
But on the prude waters he wud gae.
4
His bed was made in Balathy toun,
Of the clean sheets and of the strae;
But I wat it was far better made
Into the bottom o bonnie Tay.
5
She bored the coble in seven pairts,
I wat her heart might hae been fu sair;
For there she got the bonnie lad lost
Wi the curly locks and the yellow hair.
6
He put his foot into the boat,
He little thocht o ony ill;
But before that he was mid-waters,
The weary coble began to fill.
7
‘Woe be to the lass o Balathy toun,
I wat an ill death may she die!
For she bored the coble in seven pairts,
And let the waters perish me.
8
‘Oh, help, oh help, I can get nane,
Nae help o man can to me come!’
This was about his dying words,
When he was choaked up to the chin.
9
‘Gae tell my father and my mother
It was naebody did me this ill;
I was a-going my ain errands,
Lost at the coble o bonnie Cargill.’
10
She bored the boat in seven pairts,
I wat she bored it wi gude will;
And there they got the bonnie lad’s corpse,
In the kirk-shot o bonnie Cargill.
11
Oh a’ the keys o bonnie Stobha
I wat they at his belt did hing;
But a’ the keys of bonnie Stobha
They now ly low into the stream.
12
A braver page into his age
Neer set a foot upon the plain;
His father to his mother said,
‘Oh, sae soon as we’ve wanted him!
13
‘I wat they had mair luve than this
When they were young and at the scule;
But for his sake she wauked late,
And bored the coble o bonnie Cargill.’
14
‘There’s neer a clean sark gae on my back,
Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;
There’s neither coal nor candle-licht
Shall shine in my bouir for evir mair.
15
‘At kirk nor market I’se neer be at,
Nor yet a blythe blink in my ee;
There’s neer a ane shall say to anither,
That’s the lassie gard the young man die.
16
‘Between the yates o bonnie Stobha
And the kirk-style o bonnie Cargill,
There is mony a man and mother’s son
That was at my love’s burial.’
* * * * *
14^2. Not yet.
243