And when she saw the stately tower,
Shining both clear and bright,
Whilk stood aboon the jawing wave,
Built on a rock of height,

Says, "Row the boat, my mariners,
And bring me to the land,
For yonder I see my love's castle,
Close by the salt sea strand."

She sailed it round, and sailed it round,
And loud and loud cried she,

"Now break, now break your fairy charms, And set my true-love free."

She's ta'en her young son in her arms,

And to the door she's gane,

And long she knocked, and sair she ca'd,
But answer got she nane.

"O open, open, Gregory!

O open! if ye be within;
For here's the lass of Lochroyan,
Come far frae kith and kin.

"O open the door, Lord Gregory! O open and let me in!

The wind blows loud and cauld, Gregory, The rain drops frae my chin.

"The shoe is frozen to my foot,
The glove unto my hand,

The wet drops frae my yellow hair,
Na langer dow I stand."

O up then spak his ill mither,
—An ill death may she dee!
"Ye're no the lass of Lochroyan,
She's far out-owre the sea.

"Awa', awa', ye ill woman,

Ye're no come here for gude; Ye're but some witch or wil' warlock, Or mermaid o' the flood."

"I am neither witch nor wil' warlock,
Nor mermaid o' the sea,
But I am Annie of Lochroyan,
O open the door to me!”

"Gin ye be Annie of Lochroyan, As I trow thou binna she, Now tell me of some love-tokens

That passed 'tween thee and me."

"O dinna ye mind, love Gregory, As we sat at the wine,

We changed the rings frae our fingers? And I can shew thee thine.

"O yours was gude, and gude enough, But ay the best was mine,

For yours was o' the gude red gowd, But mine o' the diamond fine.

"Yours was o' the gude red gowd,
Mine o' the diamond fine;
Mine was o' the purest troth,

But thine was false within."

"If ye be the lass of Lochroyan, As I kenna thou be,

Tell me some mair o' the love-tokens Passed between thee and me."

"And dinna ye mind, love Gregory! As we sat on the hill,

Thou twined me o' my maidenheid,

Right sair against my will?

"Now open the door, love Gregory!
Open the door! I pray;

For thy young son is in my arms,
And will be dead ere day.”

"Ye lee, ye lee, ye ill woman,
So loud I hear ye lee;
For Annie of the Lochroyan

Is far out-owre the sea."

Fair Annie turned her round about: "Weel, syne that it be sae,

May ne'er woman that has borne a son

Hae a heart sae fu' o' wae!

"Tak down, tak down that mast o' gowd,

Set up a mast o' tree;

It disna become a forsaken lady

To sail sae royallie."

When the cock had crawn, and the day did dawn

And the sun began to peep,

Up then raise Lord Gregory,

And sair, sair did he weep.

"O I hae dreamed a dream, mither,
I wish it may bring good!
That the bonny lass of Lochroyan
At my bower window stood.

"O I hae dreamed a dream, mither,

The thought o't gars me greet!

That fair Annie of Lochroyan

Lay dead at my bed-feet."

"Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan
That ye mak a' this mane,

She stood last night at your bower-door,
But I hae sent her hame."

"O wae betide ye, ill woman,

An ill death may ye dee!

That wadna open the door yoursell
Nor yet wad waken me.'

O he's gane down to yon shore-side,
As fast as he could dree,

And there he saw fair Annie's bark
A rowing owre the sea.

"O Annie, Annie," loud he cried,
"O Annie, O Annie, bide!"
But ay the mair he cried "Annie,"
The braider grew the tide.

"O Annie, Annie, dear Annie,
Dear Annie, speak to me!”
But ay the louder he gan call,
The louder roared the sea.

The wind blew loud, the waves rose hie
And dashed the boat on shore;
Fair Annie's corse was in the faem,
The babe rose never more.

Lord Gregory tore his gowden locks
And made a wafu' mane;
Fair Annie's corpse lay at his feet,

His bonny son was gane.

"O cherry, cherry was her cheek, And gowden was her hair,

And coral, coral was her lips,

Nane might with her compare."

Then first he kissed her pale, pale cheek, And syne he kissed her chin,

And syne he kissed her wane, wane lips, There was na breath within.

“O wae betide my ill mither,

An ill death may she dee!

She turned my true-love frae my door,
Wha cam so far to me.

"O wae betide my ill mither, An ill death may she dee!

She has no been the deid o' ane,

But she's been the deid o' three."

Then he's ta'en out a little dart,
Hung low down by his gore,

He thrust it through and through his heart,
And word spak never more.

Unknown

YOUNG BEICHAN AND SUSIE PYE

IN London was young Beichan born,

He longed strange countries for to see;
But he was ta'en by a savage Moor,
Who handled him right cruellie;

For he viewed the fashions of that land:
Their way of worship viewèd he;
But to Mahound, or Termagant,

Would Beichan never bend a knee.

So in every shoulder they've putten a bore,
In every bore they've putten a tree,
And they have made him trail the wine
And spices on his fair bodie.

They've casten him in a dungeon deep,

Where he could neither hear nor see;

And fed him on naught but bread and water,
Till he for hunger's like to dee.

This Moor he had but ae daughter,
Her name was callèd Susie Pye;
And every day as she took the air,
Near Beichan's prison she passed by.