Lang stood she at her true love's door,
And lang tirled at the pin;
At length up gat his fause mother,
Says, "Wha's that wad be in?"

"O it is Annie of Lochroyan,
Your love, come o'er the sea,
But and your young son in her arms;
So open the door to me."

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman!

You 're nae come here for gude; You're but a witch, or a vile warlock, Or mermaid o' the flude."

"I'm nae a witch or vile warlock, Or mermaiden," said she;— "I'm but your Annie of Lochroyan;O open the door to me! "

"O gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trust not ye be,

What taiken can ye gie that e'er
I kept your companie?"

"O dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she says, "Whan we sat at the wine,

How we changed the napkins frae our necks?

It's nae sae lang sinsyne.

"And yours was gude, and gude enough, But nae sae gude as mine;

For yours was o' the cambrick clear,
But mine o' the silk sae fine.

"And dinna ye mind, love Gregor," she

says,

"As we twa sat at dine,

How we changed the rings frae our fingers, And I can shew thee thine:

"And yours was gude, and gude enough,
Yet nae sae gude as mine;
For yours was o' the gude red gold,
But mine o' the diamonds fine.

"Sae open the door, now, love Gregor, And open it wi' speed;

Or your young son, that is in my arms, For cald will soon be dead."

"Awa, awa, ye ill woman!

Gae frae my door for shame; For I hae gotten anither fair loveSae ye may hie you hame."

"O hae ye gotten anither fair love, For a' the oaths ye sware?

Then fare ye weel, now, fause Gregor: For me ye's never see mair!"

O hooly, hooly gaed she back,
As the day began to peep;
She set her foot on good ship board,
And sair, sair did she weep.

"Tak down, tak down the mast o' goud; Set up the mast o' tree;

Ill sets it a forsaken lady

To sail sae gallantlie.

"Tak down, tak down the sails o' silk; Set up the sails o' skin;

Ill sets the outside to be gay,

Whan there's sic grief within!

Love Gregor started frae his sleep,
And to his mother did say:
"I dreamt a dream this night, mither,
That maks my heart richt wae;

"I dreamt that Annie of Lochroyan,
The flower o' a' her kin,
Was standin' mournin' at my door;
But nane wad lat her in."

"O there was a woman stood at the door,
Wi' a bairn intill her arms;

But I wadna let her within the bower,
For fear she had done you harm."

O quickly, quickly raise he up,
And fast ran to the strand;
And there he saw her, fair Annie,
Was sailing frae the land.

And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie!
O, Annie, winna ye bide?"

But ay the louder that he cried "Annie,” The higher raired the tide.

And "heigh, Annie!" and "how, Annie! O, Annie, speak to me!"

But ay the louder that he cried "Annie," The louder raired the sea.

451

With bridal-sheets my body cover! Unbar, ye bridal-maids, the door! Let in the expected husband-lover!

bride!

Busk ye, busk ye, my winsome marrow! Busk ye, and lo'e me on the banks of Tweed

And think nae mair on the Braes of Yarrow."

"How can I busk a bonnie, bonnie bride?

How can I busk a winsome marrow? How can I love him on the banks of Tweed, That slew my love on the Braes of Yarrow? "O Yarrow fields, may never, never rain, Nor dew, thy tender blossoms cover! For there was basely slain my love,

My love, as he had not been a lover.

"The boy put on his robes, his robes of green,
His purple vest-'t was my ain sewing;
Ah, wretched me! I little, little kenned
He was, in these, to meet his ruin.

"The boy took out his milk-white, milk-white steed,

Unmindful of my dule and sorrow; But ere the too fa' of the night,

He lay a corpse on the banks of Yarrow!

"Much I rejoiced that waefu', waefu' day;

I sang, my voice the woods returning; But lang ere night the spear was flown

That slew my love, and left me mourning.

"What can my barbarous, barbarous father do, But with his cruel rage pursue me?

My lover's blood is on thy spear—

How canst thou, barbarous man, then woo me?

'My happy sisters may be, may be proud;
With cruel and ungentle scoffing
May bid me seek, on Yarrow Braes,
My lover nailed in his coffin.

"My brother Douglas may upbraid,

And strive, with threatening words, to

move me;

My lover's blood is on thy spear—

How canst thou ever bid me love thee?

His hands, methinks, are bathed in slaugh ter!

Ah me! what ghastly spectre's yon

Comes in his pale shroud, bleeding after?

"Pale as he is, here lay him, lay him down; Oh lay his cold head on my pillow! Take off, take off these bridal weeds,

And crown my careful head with willow.

"Pale though thou art, yet best, yet best beloved,

Oh could my warmth to life restore thee! Yet lie all night within my armsNo youth lay ever there before thee!

"Pale, pale indeed, O lovely, lovely youth! Forgive, forgive so foul a slaughter, And lie all night within my arms,

No youth shall ever lie there after!"

"Return, return, O mournful, mournful bride!

Return, and dry thy useless sorrow! Thy lover heeds nought of thy sighs; He lies a corpse on the Braes of Yarrow." WILLIAM HAMILTON.

RARE WILLY DROWNED IN YARROW.

"WILLY 's rare, and Willy's fair,

And Willy's wond'rous bonny; And Willy heght to marry me, Gin e'er he married ony.

"Yestreen I made my bed fu' braid,
This night I'll make it narrow;
For a' the livelang winter night
I ly twined of my marrow.

"O came you by yon water-side?
Pou'd you the rose or lily?
Or came you by yon meadow green?
Or saw you my sweet Willy?"

His mother from the window looked,

With all the longing of a mother;

His little sister weeping walked

The green-wood path to meet her brother.

Binnorie, O Binnorie

"Will ye go and see our father's ships come in ?"

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie.

No longer from thy window look,
Thou hast no son, thou tender mother!
No longer walk, thou lovely maid;
Alas, thou hast no more a brother!

Binnorie, O BinnorieAnd led her down to the river strand; By the bonny milldams of Binnorie. The youngest stude upon a stane,

Binnorie, O Binnorie; The eldest came and pushed her in;

By the bonny milldams of Binnorie,