I cannot leave those sweet singers without a passing word on the old ballad, surely of local origin:
“Now Arthur’s Seat shall be my bed,
The sheets shall ne’er be pressed by me.
St. Anton’s Well shall be my drink
Since my true love’s forsaken me!
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw
An’ shake the green leaves aff the tree?
O! gentle death, when wilt thou come?
For o’ my life I am wearie.”
Is this a woman’s voice? You cannot tell. It is supposed to commemorate the misfortunes of Lady Barbara Erskine, daughter of the Earl of Mar and wife of the second Marquis of Douglas. A rejected and malignant suitor is rumoured to have poisoned her husband’s mind against her, till he drove her from his company.