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.