Chapter XXIII: Appendix (1)

Aytoun, II, 239, says of ‘Richie Storie,’ The words, recast in a romantic form and applied to a more interesting subject, have been set to music by a noble lady, and are now very popular under the title of ‘Huntingtower.’ The history of ‘Huntingtower’ is not so well known as might be expected. I have not been able to ascertain the authorship or the date of its first appearance (which was very probably in society rather than in print). ‘Richie Storie’ is not carried by our texts further back than 1802–3 (#B#, #H#). Kinloch published in 1827 a ballad from recitation, ‘The Duke of Athol,’ which is ‘Huntingtower’ passed through the popular mouth; for ‘Huntingtower’ became, and has continued to be, a favorite with the people. Christie, Traditional Ballad Airs, I, 166, says that he had often heard ‘The Duke of Athol’ in his early years, and he gives eight stanzas which do not differ remarkably from Kinloch’s ballad.

The marks of the derivation of ‘Huntingtower’ are the terminations of lines 1, 2, 4 of each stanza, and substantial agreements in the last two stanzas with #A#, #B#, #E#, 5, #D#, #F#, #G#, 4, and with #B# 6, #C# 7, #H#, respectively. The name Huntingtower occurs only in #B# 6 of ‘Richie Storie.’ The author of ‘Huntingtower’ was no doubt possessed of a version of ‘Richie Storie’ which had its own peculiarities.

‘Huntingtower’ is too well known to require citing. It has been often printed; as, for example, in Mr G. F. Graham’s Popular Songs of Scotland, revised by J. Muir Wood, Balmoral Edition, Glasgow, 1887, p. 152; The Songs of Scotland, the words revised by Dr Charles Mackay, p. 5, London, Boosey & Co. (Altered by the Baroness Nairne, and very little left of it, Life and Songs of the Baroness Nairne, edited by the Rev. Charles Rogers, 1872, p. 177.) The pleasing air strongly resembles, says Mr Wood, one in D’Urfey’s Pills to Purge Melancholy, V, 42, ed. 1719.

‘The Duke of Athol’ may be given for the interest it has as a popular _rifacimento_.

THE DUKE OF ATHOL

“Taken down from the recitation of an idiot boy in Wishaw;”
Kinloch’s Ancient Scottish Ballads, p. 170.

1
‘I am gaing awa, Jeanie,
I am gaing awa;
I am gaing ayont the saut seas,
I’m gaing sae far awa.’

2
‘What will ye buy to me, Jamie?
What will ye buy to me?’
‘I’ll buy to you a silken plaid,
And send it wi vanitie.’

3
‘That’s na love at a’, Jamie,
That’s na love at a’;
All I want is love for love,
And that’s the best ava.

4
‘Whan will ye marry me, Jamie?
Whan will ye marry me?
Will ye tak me to your countrie,
Or will ye marry me?’

5
‘How can I marry thee, Jeanie?
How can I marry thee,
Whan I’ve a wife and bairns three?
Twa wad na weill agree.’

6
‘Wae be to your fause tongue, Jamie,
Wae be to your fause tongue;
Ye promised for to marry me,
And has a wife at hame!

7
‘But if your wife wad dee, Jamie,
And sae your bairns three,
Wad ye tak me to your countrie,
Or wad ye marry me?

8
‘But sin they’re all alive, Jamie,
But sin they’re all alive,
We’ll tak a glass in ilka hand,
And drink, Weill may they thrive!’

9
‘If my wife wad dee, Jeanie,
And sae my bairns three,
I wad tak ye to my ain countrie,
And married we wad be.’

10
‘O an your head war sair, Jamie,
O an your head war sair,
I’d tak the napkin frae my neck
And tie doun your yellow hair.’

11
‘I hae na wife at a’, Jeanie,
I hae na wife at a’;
I hae neither wife nor bairns three;
I said it to try thee.’

12
‘Licht are ye to loup, Jamie,
Licht are ye to loup;
Licht are ye to loup the dyke,
Whan I maun wale a slap.’

13
‘Licht am I to loup, Jeanie,
Licht am I to loup;
But the hiest dyke that we come to
I’ll turn and tak you up.

14
‘Blair in Athol is mine, Jeanie,
Blair in Athol is mine;
Bonnie Dunkel is whare I dwell,
And the boats o Garry’s mine.

15
‘Huntingtower is mine, Jeanie,
Huntingtower is mine,
Huntingtower, and bonnie Belford,
And a’ Balquhither’s mine.’

233

ANDREW LAMMIE

#A.# ‘The Trumpeter of Fyvie,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 126,
1806.

#B#. ‘Tifty’s Nanny,’ Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 382, from a
stall-copy.

#C. a.# ‘Andrew Lammie,’ Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 98, 1825 ; Laing’s
Thistle of Scotland, p. 55, 1823. #b.# Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p.
239.

Jamieson, in his preface, 1806, says that this ballad was current in the Border counties within a few years, and that #A# was taken down by Leyden from the recitation of a young lady who learned it in Teviotdale. Writing to Scott, in November, 1804, of such ballads as he had already prepared for the press, he says, “Trumpeter of Fyvie, from tradition, furnished by Mr Leyden, and collated with a stall-copy” (probably #B#): Letters addressed to Sir Walter Scott, Abbotsford, I, No. 117.

Buchan, in the notes to his Gleanings, 1825, p. 197, says of #C a#: “This is one of the greatest favorites of the people in Aberdeenshire that I know. I took it first down from the memory of a very old woman, and afterwards published thirty thousand copies of it. There are two versions, an old and a new; but, although I have both, I prefer this one, the younger of the two, having been composed and acted in the year 1674.” Laing, who reprints #A# in his Thistle of Scotland, p. 63, calls that the “old way of Andrew Lammie.” Motherwell, 1827, reprints “a stall-copy published at Glasgow several years ago, collated with a recited copy which has furnished one or two verbal improvements:” #C b#. There are a great many variations from #C a#, of which precisely one or two are verbal improvements. But Motherwell also gives six stanzas which are not in #a#. His copy is repeated in The Ballad Minstrelsy of Scotland, Glasgow, 1871, and there the editor says that in a chap-book printed by J. and M. Robertson, Saltmarket, Glasgow, 1808, “Andrew Lammie is given with only a few slight verbal differences between it and the copy here printed.” Such stall-copies as I have seen are late, and are reprints of #C a# or of #C b#. Motherwell assures us that the ballad as he has given it “agrees with any recited copy which the Editor has hitherto met with in the West Country.”

A professed edition, “most carefully collated with all previous editions,” was published at Peterhead, 1872: “Mill o Tifty’s Annie, A Buchan Ballad, with Introduction,” etc. This is attributed to the Rev. Dr John Muir of Aberdeen. ‘Mill o Tiftie’s Annie’ in Christie, I, 48 “is epitomized from traditional copies;” that is to say, it is taken from Motherwell, with a trifling change here and there. A copy given in Smith’s New History of Aberdeenshire is compounded of #A#, #B#, and a couple of lines from #C b#.

Annie, daughter to a well-to-do miller, loses her heart to a handsome trumpeter in the service of Lord Fyvie. Her father will not hear of such a match. (Annie has five thousand marks, and the man not a penny, #A# 11.) The trumpeter is obliged to go to Edinburgh for a time, and Annie appoints him a tryst at a bridge. He will buy her her wedding-gear while he is away, and marry her when he comes back. Annie knows that she shall be dead ere he returns, and bids him an everlasting adieu.[130] The trumpeter goes to the top of the castle and blows a blast which is heard at his love’s house. Her father beats her, her mother beats her; her brother beats her and breaks her back. Lord Fyvie is passing on one of these occasions, comes in, and urges Mill of Tiftie to yield to his daughter’s inclinations. The father is immovable; she must marry higher than with a trumpeter. Annie is put to bed, with her face towards Fyvie, and dies of a broken heart and of the cruel treatment which she has undergone.

This is a homely ditty,[131] but the gentleness and fidelity of Annie under the brutal behavior of her family are genuinely pathetic, and justify the remarkable popularity which the ballad has enjoyed in the north of Scotland. In those parts the story has been played as well as sung. “The ballad used in former times to be presented in a dramatic shape at rustic meetings in Aberdeenshire,” says Chambers (Scottish Ballads, p. 143); perhaps misinterpreting and expanding the enunciation made by Buchan and in the title of some stall-copies that “this tragedy was acted in the year 1674,” which may rather refer to the date of the story. But however it may have been in former times, two rival companies in Aberdeenshire were performing plays founded on the ballad in 1887–8.[132]

“Bonny Andrew Lammie” was a well-known personage at the beginning of the last century, for, as Jamieson has pointed out, he is mentioned in a way that implies this by Allan Ramsay, in the second of his two cantos in continuation of Christ’s Kirk on the Green, written, as Ramsay says, in 1718. (Poems, London, 1731, I, 76, v. 70.)

Mill of Tiftie is, or was, a farm-house on the side of a glen about half a mile northeast of the castle of Fyvie, and in view of its turrets (on one of which there now stands a figure of the Trumpeter sounding towards Tiftie). The mill proper, now a ruin, was in the bottom of the glen, and gave its name to the house. The bridge of Sleugh, otherwise Skeugh, etc., was in the hollow between Tiftie and the castle.[133]

Annie was Agnes Smith, Nannie being among her people an affectionate form for Agnes. There is reason to believe that she may have been daughter of a William Smith who is known to have been a brother or near kinsman of the laird of Inveramsay, a person of some local consequence.[134] An inscription on her gravestone makes Agnes Smith to have died January 19, 1673.[135]

“Some years subsequent to the melancholy fate of poor Tifty’s Nanny,” says Jamieson, II, 387, citing the current tradition of Fyvie, “her sad story being mentioned and the ballad sung in a company in Edinburgh when [Andrew Lammie] was present, he remained silent and motionless, till he was discovered by a groan suddenly bursting from him and _several of the buttons flying from his waistcoat_.” The peasants of Fyvie, Jamieson continues, “borrowed this striking characteristic of excessive grief” neither from the Laocoön group nor from Shakspere’s King Lear, but from nature. The anecdote, and the comment too, is apt to be repeated by editors of ‘Andrew Lammie.’ That “affecting image of overpowering grief,” as Chambers calls it, the flying off of the buttons (or the bursting of a waistcoat), we have had several times already, though in no ballad (or version) of much note: see II, 118, #D# 17, 186, #C# 15, 308, 4; IV, 101, I 15, 185, 11. It must be owned to be a stroke that does not well bear iteration. Mrs. Littlewit in ‘Bartholomew Fair’ has a tedious life with her Puritan, she says: “he breaks his buttons and cracks seams at every saying he sobs out.” Ben Jonson has taken out one of the best things in our tragedy and put it into his comedy.

The air to which this ballad was usually sung, Jamieson informs us, was “of that class which in Teviotdale they term a northern drawl; and a Perthshire set of it, but two notes lower than it is commonly sung, is to be found in Johnson’s Scots Musical Museum [No. 175, p. 183], to the song ‘How long and dreary is the night.’”

#C b# is translated by Wolff, Hausschatz, p. 199, Halle der Völker, I, 65.

* * * * *

A

Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, I, 126; “taken down by Dr Leyden from
the recitation of a young lady, Miss Robson, of Edinburgh, who
learned it in Teviotdale.”

1
‘At Fyvie’s yetts there grows a flower,
It grows baith braid and bonny;
There’s a daisie in the midst o it,
And it’s ca’d by Andrew Lammie.

2
‘O gin that flower war in my breast,
For the love I bear the laddie!
I wad kiss it, and I wad clap it,
And daut it for Andrew Lammie.

3
‘The first time me and my love met
Was in the woods of Fyvie;
He kissed my lips five thousand times,
And ay he ca’d me bonny,
And a’ the answer he gat frae me,
Was, My bonny Andrew Lammie!’

4
‘Love, I maun gang to Edinburgh;
Love, I maun gang and leave thee!’
‘I sighed right sair, and said nae mair
But, O gin I were wi ye!’

5
‘But true and trusty will I be,
As I am Andrew Lammie;
I’ll never kiss a woman’s mouth
Till I come back and see thee.’

6
‘And true and trusty will I be,
As I am Tiftie’s Annie;
I’ll never kiss a man again
Till ye come back and see me.’

7
Syne he’s come back frae Edinburgh
To the bonny hows o Fyvie,
And ay his face to the nor-east,
To look for Tiftie’s Annie.

8
‘I hae a love in Edinburgh,
Sae hae I intill Leith, man;
I hae a love intill Montrose,
Sae hae I in Dalkeith, man.

9
‘And east and west, whereer I go,
My love she’s always wi me;
For east and west, whereer I go,
My love she dwells in Fyvie.

10
‘My love possesses a’ my heart,
Nae pen can eer indite her;
She’s ay sae stately as she goes
That I see nae mae like her.

11
‘But Tiftie winna gie consent
His dochter me to marry,
Because she has five thousand marks,
And I have not a penny.

12
‘Love pines away, love dwines away,
Love, love decays the body;
For love o thee, oh I must die;
Adieu, my bonny Annie!’

13
Her mither raise out o her bed,
And ca’d on baith her women:
‘What ails ye, Annie, my dochter dear?
O Annie, was ye dreamin?

14
‘What dule disturbd my dochter’s sleep?
O tell to me, my Annie!’
She sighed right sair, and said nae mair
But, O for Andrew Lammie!

15
Her father beat her cruellie,
Sae also did her mother;
Her sisters sair did scoff at her;
But wae betide her brother!

16
Her brother beat her cruellie,
Till his straiks they werena canny;
He brak her back, and he beat her sides,
For the sake o Andrew Lammie.

17
‘O fie, O fie, my brother dear!
The gentlemen’ll shame ye;
The Laird o Fyvie he’s gaun by,
And he’ll come in and see me.

18
‘And he’ll kiss me, and he’ll clap me,
And he will speer what ails me;
And I will answer him again,
It’s a’ for Andrew Lammie.’

19
Her sisters they stood in the door,
Sair grievd her wi their folly:
‘O sister dear, come to the door,
Your cow is lowin on you.’

20
‘O fie, O fie, my sister dear!
Grieve me not wi your folly;
I’d rather hear the trumpet sound
Than a’ the kye o Fyvie.

21
‘Love pines away, love dwines away,
Love, love decays the body;
For love o thee now I maun die;
Adieu to Andrew Lammie!’

22
But Tiftie’s wrote a braid letter,
And sent it into Fyvie,
Saying his daughter was bewitchd
By bonny Andrew Lammie.

23
‘Now, Tiftie, ye maun gie consent,
And lat the lassie marry;’
‘I’ll never, never gie consent
To the trumpeter of Fyvie.’

24
When Fyvie looked the letter on,
He was baith sad and sorry:
Says, The bonniest lass o the country-side
Has died for Andrew Lammie.

25
O Andrew’s gane to the house-top
O the bonny house o Fyvie,
He’s blawn his horn baith loud and shill
Oer the lawland leas o Fyvie.

26
‘Mony a time hae I walkd a’ night,
And never yet was weary;
But now I may walk wae my lane,
For I’ll never see my deary.

27
‘Love pines away, love dwines away,
Love, love decays the body;
For the love o thee now I maun die;
I come, my bonny Annie!’

* * * * *

B

Jamieson’s Popular Ballads, II, 382; “from a stall copy, procured
from Scotland.”

1
‘There springs a rose in Fyvie’s yard,
And O but it springs bonny!
There’s a daisy in the middle of it,
Its name is Andrew Lammie.

2
‘I wish the rose were in my breast,
For the love I bear the daisy;
So blyth and merry as I would be,
And kiss my Andrew Lammie.

3
‘The first time I and my love met
Was in the wood of Fyvie;
He kissëd and he dawted me,
Calld me his bonny Annie.

4
‘Wi apples sweet he did me treat,
Which stole my heart so canny,
And ay sinsyne himself was kind,
My bonny Andrew Lammie.’

5
‘But I am going to Edinburgh,
My love, I’m going to leave thee;’
She sighd full sore, and said no more,
‘I wish I were but wi you.’

6
‘I will buy thee a wedding-gown,
My love, I’ll buy it bonny;’
‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back,
My bonny Andrew Lammie.’

7
‘I will buy you brave bridal shoes,
My love, I’ll buy them bonny;’
‘But I’ll be dead or ye come back,
My bonny Andrew Lammie.’

8
‘If you’ll be true and trusty too,
As I am Andrew Lammie,
That you will neer kiss lad nor lown
Till I return to Fyvie.’

9
‘I shall be true and trusty too,
As my name’s Tifty’s Nanny,
That I’ll kiss neither lad nor lown
Till you return to Fyvie.’—

10
‘Love pines awa, love dwines awa,
Love pines awa my body;
And love’s crept in at my bed-foot,
And taen possession o me.

11
‘My father drags me by the hair,
My mother sore does scold me;
And they would give one hundred merks
To any one to wed me.

12
‘My sister stands at her bower-door,
And she full sore does mock me,
And when she hears the trumpet sound,—
“Your cow is lowing, Nanny!”

13
‘O be still, my sister Jane,
And leave off all your folly;
For I’d rather hear that cow low
Than all the kye in Fyvie.

14
‘My father locks the door at night,
Lays up the keys fu canny,
And when he hears the trumpet sound,—
“Your cow is lowing, Nanny!”

15
‘O hold your tongue, my father dear,
And let be a’ your folly;
For I would rather hear that cow
Than all the kye in Fyvie.’

* * * * * *

16
‘If you ding me, I will greet,
And gentlemen will hear me;
Laird Fyvie will be coming by,
And he’ll come in and see me.’

17
‘Yea, I will ding you though ye greet
And gentlemen should hear you;
Though Laird Fyvie were coming by,
And did come in and see you.’

18
So they dang her, and she grat,
And gentlemen did hear her,
And Fyvie he was coming by,
And did come in to see her.

19
‘Mill of Tifty, give consent,
And let your daughter marry;
If she were full of as high blood
As she is full of beauty,
I would take her to myself,
And make her my own lady.’

20
‘Fyvie lands ly broad and wide,
And O but they ly bonny!
But I would not give my own true-love
For all the lands in Fyvie.

21
‘But make my bed, and lay me down,
And turn my face to Fyvie,
That I may see before I die
My bonny Andrew Lammie.’

22
They made her bed, and laid her down,
And turnd her face to Fyvie;
She gave a groan, and died or morn,
So neer saw Andrew Lammie.

23
Her father sorely did lament
The loss of his dear Nannie,
And wishd that he had gien consent
To wed with Andrew Lammie.

24
But ah! alas! it was too late,
For he could not recall her;
Through time unhappy is his fate,
Because he did controul her.

25
You parents grave who children have,
In crushing them be canny,
Lest for their part they break their heart,
As did young Tifty’s Nanny.

* * * * *

C

#a.# Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 98; taken down “from the memory of a
very old woman” (p. 197). #b.# Motherwell’s Minstrelsy, p. 239; a
stall copy collated with a recited copy.

1
At Mill of Tifty lived a man,
In the neighbourhood of Fyvie;
He had a luvely daughter fair,
Was callëd bonny Annie.

2
Her bloom was like the springing flower
That hails the rosy morning,
With innocence and graceful mein
Her beautous form adorning.

3
Lord Fyvie had a trumpeter
Whose name was Andrew Lammie;
He had the art to gain the heart
Of Mill of Tifty’s Annie.

4
Proper he was, both young and gay,
His like was not in Fyvie,
Nor was ane there that could compare
With this same Andrew Lammie.

5
Lord Fyvie he rode by the door
Where livëd Tifty’s Annie;
His trumpeter rode him before,
Even this same Andrew Lammie.

6
Her mother called her to the door:
‘Come here to me, my Annie:
Did eer you see a prettier man
Than the trumpeter of Fyvie?’

7
Nothing she said, but sighing sore,
Alas for bonnie Annie!
She durst not own her heart was won
By the trumpeter of Fyvie.

8
At night when all went to their bed,
All slept full soon but Annie;
Love so oppresst her tender breast,
Thinking on Andrew Lammie.

9
‘Love comes in at my bed-side,
And love lies down beyond me;
Love has possest my tender breast,
And love will waste my body.

10
‘The first time me and my love met
Was in the woods of Fyvie;
His lovely form and speech so soft
Soon gaind the heart of Annie.

11
‘He called me mistress; I said, No,
I’m Tifty’s bonny Annie;
With apples sweet he did me treat,
And kisses soft and mony.

12
‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den,
Where the burn runs clear and bonny,
I’ve often gane to meet my love,
My bonny Andrew Lammie.’

13
But now alas! her father heard
That the trumpeter of Fyvie
Had had the art to gain the heart
Of Mill of Tifty’s Annie.

14
Her father soon a letter wrote,
And sent it on to Fyvie,
To tell his daughter was bewitchd
By his servant, Andrew Lammie.

15
Then up the stair his trumpeter
He callëd soon and shortly:
‘Pray tell me soon what’s this you’ve done
To Tifty’s bonny Annie.’

16
‘Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride,
For it has ruined many;
They’ll not have’t said that she should wed
The trumpeter of Fyvie.

17
‘In wicked art I had no part,
Nor therein am I canny;
True love alone the heart has won
Of Tifty’s bonny Annie.

18
‘Where will I find a boy so kind
That will carry a letter canny,
Who will run to Tifty’s town,
Give it to my love Annie?

19
‘Tifty he has daughters three
Who all are wonderous bonny;
But ye’ll ken her oer a’ the rest;
Give that to bonny Annie.

20
‘It’s up and down in Tifty’s den,
Where the burn runs clear and bonny,
There wilt thou come and I’ll attend;
My love, I long to see thee.

21
‘Thou mayst come to the brig of Slugh,
And there I’ll come and meet thee;
It’s there we will renew our love,
Before I go and leave you.

22
‘My love, I go to Edinburgh town,
And for a while must leave thee;’
She sighëd sore, and said no more
But ‘I wish that I were with you!’

23
‘I’ll buy to thee a bridal gown,
My love, I’ll buy it bonny;’
‘But I’ll be dead ere ye come back
To see your bonny Annie.’

24
‘If ye’ll be true and constant too,
As I am Andrew Lammie,
I shall thee wed when I come back
To see the lands of Fyvie.’

25
‘I will be true and constant too
To thee, my Andrew Lammie,
But my bridal bed or then’ll be made
In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’

26
‘The time is gone, and now comes on
My dear, that I must leave thee;
If longer here I should appear,
Mill of Tifty he would see me.’

27
‘I now for ever bid adieu
To thee, my Andrew Lammie;
Or ye come back I will be laid
In the green church-yard of Fyvie.’

28
He hied him to the head of the house,
To the house-top of Fyvie,
He blew his trumpet loud and shrill,
It was heard at Mill of Tifty.

29
Her father lockd the door at night,
Laid by the keys fu canny,
And when he heard the trumpet sound
Said, Your cow is lowing, Annie.

30
‘My father dear, I pray forbear,
And reproach not your Annie;
I’d rather hear that cow to low
Than all the kye in Fyvie.

31
‘I would not for my braw new gown,
And all your gifts so many,
That it was told in Fyvie land
How cruel ye are to Annie.

32
‘But if ye strike me I will cry,
And gentlemen will hear me;
Lord Fyvie will be riding by,
And he’ll come in and see me.’

33
At the same time the lord came in;
He said, What ails thee Annie?
‘It’s all for love now I must die,
For bonny Andrew Lammie.’

34
‘Pray, Mill of Tifty, give consent,
And let your daughter marry;’
‘It will be with some higher match
Than the trumpeter of Fyvie.’

35
‘If she were come of as high a kind
As she’s advanced in beauty,
I would take her unto myself,
And make her my own lady.’

36
‘Fyvie lands are far and wide,
And they are wonderous bonny;
But I would not leave my own true-love
For all the lands in Fyvie.’

37
Her father struck her wonderous sore,
As also did her mother;
Her sisters also did her scorn,
But woe be to her brother!

38
Her brother struck her wonderous sore,
With cruel strokes and many;
He broke her back in the hall-door,
For liking Andrew Lammie.

39
‘Alas! my father and my mother dear,
Why so cruel to your Annie?
My heart was broken first by love,
My brother has broke my body.

40
‘O mother dear, make me my bed,
And lay my face to Fyvie;
Thus will I lie, and thus will die
For my dear Andrew Lammie.

41
‘Ye neighbours hear, baith far and near,
And pity Tifty’s Annie,
Who dies for love of one poor lad,
For bonny Andrew Lammie.

42
‘No kind of vice eer staind my life,
Or hurt my virgin honour;
My youthful heart was won by love,
But death will me exoner.’

43
Her mother than she made her bed,
And laid her face to Fyvie;
Her tender heart it soon did break,
And never saw Andrew Lammie.

44
Lord Fyvie he did wring his hands,
Said, Alas for Tifty’s Annie!
The fairest flower’s cut down by love
That ever sprang in Fyvie.

45
‘Woe be to Mill of Tifty’s pride!
He might have let them marry;
I should have given them both to live
Into the lands of Fyvie.’

46
Her father sorely now laments
The loss of his dear Annie,
And wishes he had given consent
To wed with Andrew Lammie.

47
When Andrew home frae Edinburgh came,
With muckle grief and sorrow,
‘My love is dead for me to-day,
I’ll die for her to-morrow.

48
‘Now I will run to Tifty’s den,
Where the burn runs clear and bonny;
With tears I’ll view the brig of Slugh,
Where I parted from my Annie.

49
‘Then will I speed to the green kirk-yard,
To the green kirk-yard of Fyvie,
With tears I’ll water my love’s grave,
Till I follow Tifty’s Annie.’

* * * * *

#C. a.#

9^3. Love so oppressd: #b#, has possessd.

11^4. mony: #b#, many.

44^3. flower: #b#, flower’s.

47^1. home: #b#, hame.

48^2. For _perhaps Aberdonian for_ Where: #b#, Where.

#b.#

_Insignificant variations will not be noted._

7^1. She sighed sore, but said no more.

8^2. Sound _for_ soon (soun?).

9^3. Love has possessd.

11^4. many.

13^4. Of Tiftie’s bonny Annie. _After 14_:

When Lord Fyvie had this letter read,
O dear! but he was sorry:
‘The bonniest lass in Fyvie’s land
Is bewitched by Andrew Lammie.’

16, 17 _are_ 17, 16.

16^1. Woe betide Mill.

16^3. He’ll no hae’t. _After 18_:

‘Here you shall find a boy so kind
Who’ll carry a letter canny,
Who will run on to Tiftie’s town,
And gie’t to thy love Annie.’

19^3. a’ the lave.

20^{3,4}. and meet thy love, Thy bonny Andrew Lammie.

21.
‘When wilt thou come, and I’ll attend?
My love, I long to see thee:’
‘Thou mayst come to the bridge of Sleugh,
And there I’ll come and meet thee.’

24^2. As my name’s.

26^1. Our time.

28^3. schill.

30^4. Than hae a’ the kine.

35^2. she’s adorned with.

36^1. are fair.

_After 43_:

But the word soon went up and down,
Through all the lands of Fyvie,
That she was dead and buried,
Even Tiftie’s bonny Annie.

44^3. flower’s.

45^1. O woe betide Mill.

_After 46_:

Her mother grieves both air and late,
Her sisters, cause they scornd her;
Surely her brother doth mourn and grieve
For the cruel usage he’d givn her.

But now alas! it was too late,
For they could not recal her;
Through life unhappy is their fate
Because they did controul her.

47^1. hame.

47^3. love has died.

48^2. Where.

48^4. parted last with Annie. _After 49_:

Ye parents grave who children have,
In crushing them be canny,
Lest when too late you do repent;
Remember Tiftie’s Annie.

234

CHARLIE MACPHERSON

#A.# ‘Charlie MacPherson,’ Harris MS., fol. 23 b.

#B.# ‘Charlie M’Pherson,’ Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland,
I, 85.

Charlie Macpherson comes to Kinaldie with a large party of men from the West Isle to take away Helen, whom he has long courted, #A# 1, 4. Helen’s mother is obliged to admit them. When her daughter is asked for, MacPherson is told that she has gone to Whitehouse, to marry auld Gairn, #A# 5 (Dalgairn, #B# 12). The party go on to Whitehouse, where indeed they find Helen, and everybody there calling her bride. We expect a collision, and judging by #A# 8 there was one, with the bride wishing well to the assailants. But in #B# (where there is no hint that Helen favors her irregular suitor), MacPherson comports himself very mildly, and only wishes, as he goes off, that his heavy heart may light on Whitehouse of Cromar.

The ballad was known to Mrs Brown of Falkland.[136] She gives it the title of ‘The Carrying-off of the Heiress of Kinady,’ from which it is warrantable to conclude that MacPherson was so far successful.

There are several Kinaldies and more than one Whitehouse. The Kinaldie which we have to do with here is a small place in the parish of Logie-Coldstone, Cromar. Milton of Whitehouse is about a mile to the south of Kinaldie, and seems to be the place intended by Whitehouse o Cromar, #B# 18, 20. Braemar, #A# 7^1, should then be Cromar.

* * * * *

A

Harris MS., fol. 23 b; from Mrs Harris’s singing.

1
Charlie MacPherson, that braw Hieland lad[die],
On Valentine’s even cam doun to Kinaltie,
Courtit Burd Hellen, baith wakin an sleepin:
‘Oh, fair fa them has my love in keepin!’

2
Charlie MacPherson cam doun the dykeside,
Baith Milton an Muirton an a’ bein his guide;
Baith Milton an Muirton an auld Water Nairn,
A’ gaed wi him, for to be his warn.

3
Whan he cam to the hoose o Kinaltie,
‘Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in!
Open your yetts, mistress, an lat us come in!
For here’s a commission come frae your gude-son.

4
‘Madam,’ says Charlie, ‘whare [i]s your dochter?
Mony time have I come to Kinatie an socht her;
Noo maun she goe wi me mony a mile,
Because I’ve brocht mony men frae the West Isle.’

5
‘As for my dochter, she has gane abroad.
You’ll no get her for her tocher gude;
She’s on to Whitehouse, to marry auld Gairn:
Oh, fair fa them that wait on my bairn!’

6
Charlie MacPherson gaed up the dykeside,
Baith Muirtoun an Milton an a’ bein his guide;
Baith Muirton an Milton an auld Water Nairn,
A’ gaed wi him, for to be his warn.

7
Whan he cam to the hoose in Braemar,
Sae weel as he kent that his Nellie was there!
An Nellie was sittin upon the bed-side,
An every one there was ca’ing her, bride.

8
The canles gaed oot, they waurna weel licht,
Swords an spears they glancet fou bricht;
Sae laith as she was her true-love to beguile,
Because he brocht mony men frae the West Isle.

* * * * * *

* * * * *

B

Buchan’s Ballads of the North of Scotland, I, 85.

1
Charlie M’Pherson, that brisk Highland laddie,
At Valentine even he came to Kinadie:

2
To court her Burd Helen, baith waking and sleeping;
Joy be wi them that has her a keeping!

3
Auldtown and Muirtown, likewise Billy Beg,
All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his guide.

4
Jamie M’Robbie, likewise Wattie Nairn,
All gaed wi Charlie, for to be his warran.

5
When they came to Kinadie, they knockd at the door;
When nae ane woud answer, they gaed a loud roar.

6
‘Ye’ll open the door, mistress, and lat us come in;
For tidings we’ve brought frae your appearant guid-son.’

7
For to defend them, she was not able;
They bangd up the stair, sat down at the table.

8
‘Ye’ll eat and drink, gentlemen, and eat at your leisure;
Nae thing’s disturb you, take what’s your pleasure.’

9
‘O madam,’ said he, ‘I’m come for your daughter;
Lang hae I come to Kinadie and there sought her.

10
‘Now she’s gae wi me for mony a mile,
Before that I return unto the West Isle.’

11
‘My daughter’s not at home, she is gone abroad;
Ye darena now steal her, her tocher is guid.

12
‘My daughter’s in Whitehouse, wi Mistress Dalgairn;
Joy be wi them that waits on my bairn!’

13
The swords an the targe that hang about Charlie,
They had sic a glitter, and set him sae rarelie!

14
They had sic a glitter, and kiest sic a glamour,
They showed mair light than they had in the chamour.

15
To Whitehouse he went, and when he came there
Right sair was his heart when he went up the stair.

16
Burd Helen was sitting by Thomas’ bed-side,
And all in the house were addressing her, bride.

17
‘O farewell now, Helen, I’ll bid you adieu;
Is this a’ the comfort I’m getting frae you?

18
‘It was never my intention ye shoud be the waur;
My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar!

19
‘For you I hae travelled full mony lang mile,
Awa to Kinadie, far frae the West Isle.

20
‘But now ye are married, and I am the waur;
My heavy heart light on Whitehouse o Cromar!’

* * * * *

#A.#

_Air_, Whilk o ye lasses.

#B.#

_Printed in stanzas of four short lines._

235

THE EARL OF ABOYNE

#A.# ‘The Earl of Aboyne,’ Kinloch MSS, V, 351.

#B.# ‘The Earl of Aboyne.’ #a.# Buchan’s Gleanings, p. 71. #b#. Gibb
MS., p. 29, No 5.

#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.