Than the king’s image on the yellow gold!
Like many of the bards, Rob appears to have suffered from a sore affair of the heart. A yellow-haired Annie deceived him, and ran away with a fair carpenter from the south, and he sang Is trom leam an àiridh. It seems the courting was carried on at a shieling, a favourite place of resort for fond swains and tender maidens:
Oh, sad is the shieling,
And gone are its joys!
All harsh and unfeeling
To me now its noise,
Since Anna—who warbled
As sweet as the merle—
Forsook me—my honey-mouthed,
Merry-lipped girl!