F

Gibb MS., p. 9. “From recitation; traced to Mary Jack, Lochlee, Forfarshire, died 1881, aged 94.”

1

Bonny may has to the ewe-bughts gane,

To milk her father’s ewes,

An aye as she milked her bonny voice rang

Far out amang the knowes.

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2

‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may,

Milk on, milk on,’ said he;

‘Milk on, milk on, my bonny, bonny may;

Will ye shew me out-ower the lea?’

3

‘Ride on, ride on, stout rider,’ she said,

‘Yere steed’s baith stout and strang;

For out o the ewe-bught I daurna come,

For fear ye do me wrang.’

4

But he’s tane her by the milk-white hand,

An by the green gown-sleeve,

An he’s laid her low on the dewy grass,

An at nae ane spiered he leave.

5

Then he’s mounted on his milk-white steed,

An ridden after his men,

An a’ that his men they said to him

Was, Dear master, ye’ve tarried lang.

6

‘I’ve ridden east, an I’ve ridden wast,

An I’ve ridden amang the knowes,

But the bonniest lassie eer I saw

Was milkin her daddie’s yowes.’

7

She’s taen the milk-pail on her heid,

An she’s gane langin hame,

An a her father said to her

Was, Daughter, ye’ve tarried lang.

8

‘Oh, wae be to your shepherds! father,

For they take nae care o the sheep;

For they’ve bygit the ewe-bught far frae hame,

An they’ve trysted a man to me.

9

‘There came a tod unto the bucht,

An a waefu tod was he,

An, or ever he had tane that ae ewe-lamb,

I had rather he had tane ither three.’

10

But it fell on a day, an a bonny summer day,

She was ca’in out her father’s kye,

An bye came a troop o gentlemen,

Cam ridin swiftly bye.

11

Out an spoke the foremost ane,

Says, Lassie hae ye got a man?

She turned herself saucy round about,

Says, Yes, I’ve ane at hame.

12

‘Ye lee, ye lee, ye my bonny may,

Sae loud as I hear ye lee!

For dinna ye mind that misty nicht

Ye were in the ewe-bughts wi me?’

13

He ordered ane o his men to get down;

Says, Lift her up behind me;

Your father may ca in the kye when he likes,

They sall neer be ca’ed in by thee.

14

‘For I’m the laird o Athole swaird,

Wi fifty ploughs an three,

An I hae gotten the bonniest lass

In a’ the north countrie.’