THE WEARY COBLE O' CARGILL
David Drummonds destiny,
Gude man o' appearance o' Cargill;
I wot his blude rins in the flude,
Sae sair against his parents' will.
She was the lass o' Balathy toun,
And he the butler o' Stobhall;
And mony a time she walked late,
To bore the coble o' Cargill.
His bed was made in Kercock ha',
Of gude clean sheets and of the hay;
He wadna rest ae night therein,
But on the proud waters he wad gae.
His bed was made in Balathy toun,
Of the clean sheets and of the strae;
But I wot it was far better made,
Into the bottom o' bonny Tay.
She bored the coble in seven parts,
I wot her heart might hae been fu' sair;
For there she got the bonny lad lost,
Wi' the curly locks and the yellow hair.
He put his foot into the boat,
He little thought o' ony ill:
But before that he was mid-waters,
The weary coble began to fill.
"Woe be to the lass o' Balathy toun,
I wot an ill death may she die;
For she bored the coble in seven parts,
And let the waters perish me!
(strae, straw.)
"O help, O help I can get nane,
Nae help o' man can to me come!"
This was about his dying words,
When he was choked up to the chin.
"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' bonny Cargill."
She bored the boat in seven parts,
I wot she bored it wi' gude will;
And there they got the bonny lad's corpse,
In the kirk-shot o' bonny Cargill.
O a' the keys of bonny Stobha',
I wot they at his belt did hing;
But a the keys of bonny Stobha,
They now lie low into the stream.
A braver page into his age
Ne er set a foot upon the plain;
His' father to his mother said,
"O sae soon as we've wanted him!"
I wot they had mair love than this,
When they were young and at the school;
But for his sake she walked late,
And bored the coble o' bonny Cargill.
(shot, plot of land.)
"There's ne'er a clean sark gae on my back,
Nor yet a kame gae in my hair;
There's neither coal nor candle light
Shall shine in my bower for ever mair.
"At kirk nor market I'se ne'er be at,
Nor yet a blithe blink in my ee;
There's ne'er a ane shall say to another,
That's the lassie gar'd the young man die."
Between the yetts o' bonny Stobha',
And the kirkstyle o' bonny Cargill,
There is mony a man and mother's son
That was at my love's burial.