D
Murison MS., p. 117; learned by Mrs Murison from her mother, Old Deer, Aberdeenshire.
1
There was three lords sat drinkin wine
In bonnie Aberdeen, [O]
. . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . .
2
Some o them talked o their merchandise,
An some o their ladies fine, [O]
But Young Allan he talked o his bonnie ship,
That cost him mony a poun.
* * * * * *
3
‘Whar will I get a bonnie wee boy
That’ll tak my helm in han, O
Till I gang up to my high topmast
An look oot for some dry lan?
4
‘He’ll get half o my gowd, an half o my gear,
An the third pairt o my lan,
An gin he row me safe on shore
He shall hae my daughter Ann.’
5
‘O here am I, a bonny wee boy
That’ll tak your helm in han
Till ye gang up to your high topmast
An look oot for some dry lan.
6
‘I’ll nae seek your gowd, nor I’ll nae seek your gear,
Nor the third pairt o your lan,
But gin I row you safe to shore
I shall hae your daughter Ann.
7
‘Come doon, come doon, Young Allan,’ he cries,
‘Ye see nae what I see;
For through an through your bonnie ship-side
An I see the open sea.
8
‘Ye’ll tak twenty-four o your feather-beds,
Ye’ll busk your bonnie ship roon,
An as much o the guid canvas-claith
As gar her gang hale an soun.
9
‘An whar ye want an iron bolt
Ye’ll ca a siller pin,
An whar ye want an oaken bolt
Ye’ll beat the yellow gold in.’
10
He’s taen twenty-four o his feather-beds
An buskit’s bonnie ship roon,
An as much o the guid canvas-claith
As gar her gang hale an soun.
11
An whar he’s wantit an iron bolt
He’s ca’d a siller pin,
An whar he’s wantit an oaken bolt
He’s beat the yellow gold in.
12
The firstan shore that they cam till,
It was the shore o Linn;
They held their spears an beenits oot,
An they wouldna lat Allan in.
13
The neistan shore that they cam till
It was the shore o . . . ;
. . . . . . .
An they turned their ship aboot.
14
But the neistan shore that they cam till,
‘T was bonnie Aberdeen;
The fifes an drums they a’ did play,
To welcome Allan in.
15
‘O where is he, the bonnie wee boy
That took my helm in han
Till I gied up to my high topmast
An lookd oot for some dry lan?
16
‘He’s get half o my gowd, an half o my gear,
An the third pairt o my lan,
An since he’s rowt me safe to shore
He sall hae my daughter Ann.’
17
‘O here am I, the bonnie wee boy
That took your helm in han
Till ye gied up to your high topmast
An lookd oot for some dry lan.
18
‘I’ll nae seek half o your good, nor half o your gear,
Nor the third pairt o your lan,
But since I’ve rowt you safe to shore
I sall hae your daughter Ann.’