B

Kinloch MSS, I, 343.

1

Rob Roy frae the Hielands cam

Unto the Lawland border,

And he has stown a ladie fair,

To hand his house in order.

2

He guarded the house round about,

Himsel went in and found her out,

She hung close by her mither;

Wi dolefu cries and watery eyes

They parted frae each ither.

3

‘Gang wi me, my dear,’ he says,

‘Gang and be my honey;

Gang and be my wedded wife,

I loe ye best o onie.’

4

‘I winna gang wi you,’ she says,

‘I winna be your honey;

I winna be your wedded wife;

Ye loe me for my money.’

5

He gied na her na time to dress

As ladies whan they’re brides,

But hurried her awa wi speed,

And rowd her in his plaids.

6

He gat her up upon a horse,

Himsel lap on ahind her;

And they’re awa to the Hieland hills;

Her friends they canna find her.

7

As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,

This lady aften fainted,

Saying, Wae be to my cursed gowd,

This road to me invented!

8

As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,

And at Buchanan tarried,

He bought to her baith cloak and goun,

Yet she wadna be married.

9

Six held her up afore the priest,

Four laid her in a bed, O;

Maist mournfully she wept and cried

Whan she bye him was laid, O.

10

‘O be content, be content,

Be content to stay, ladie;

For now ye are my wedded wife

Unto your dying day, ladie.

11

‘Rob Roy was my father calld,

M’Gregor was his name, ladie;

And in a’ the country whare he dwalt

He exceeded ae in fame, ladie.

12

‘He was a hedge unto his friends,

A heckle to his faes, ladie;

And ilka ane that did him wrang,

He beat him on the neis, ladie.

13

‘I’m as bold, I am as bold

As my father was afore, ladie;

Ilka ane that does me wrang

Sall feel my gude claymore, ladie.

14

‘There neer was frae Lochlomond west

That eer I did him fear, ladie;

For, if his person did escape,

I seizd upon his gear, ladie.

15

‘My father delights in horse and kye,

In sheep and goats and a’, ladie,

And thee wi me and thirty merks

Will mak me a man fu braw, ladie.

16

‘I hae been in foreign lands,

And servd the king o France, ladie;

We will get the bagpipes,

And we’ll hae a dance, ladie.’