"Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan,
That ye mak a' this din;
She stood a' last night at your door,
But I trow she wan na in!"
"O wae betide ye, ill woman!
An ill deid may ye die,
That wadna open the door to her,
Nor yet wad waken me!"
O quickly, quickly raise he up,
And fast ran to the strand;
And then he saw her, fair Annie,
Was sailing frae the land.
And it's "Hey Annie!" and "How Annie!
O Annie, winna ye bide?"
But aye the mair that he cried "Annie!"
The faster ran the tide.
And it's "Hey Annie!" and "How Annie!
O Annie, speak to me!"
But aye the louder that he cried "Annie!"
The higher raise the sea.
The wind grew loud, and the sea grew rough,
And the ship was rent in twain;
And soon he saw her, fair Annie,
Come floating through the faem.
He saw his young son in her arms,
Baith toss'd abune the tide;
He wrang his hands, and fast he ran,
And plunged in the sea sae wide.
He catch'd her by the yellow hair,
And drew her to the strand;
But cauld and stiff was every limb,
Afore he reach'd the land.
O first he kiss'd her cherry cheek,
And syne he kiss'd her chin,
And sair he kiss'd her bonny lips,
But there was nae breath within.
And he has mourn'd o'er fair Annie,
Till the sun was ganging down,
Syne wi' a sigh his heart it brast,
And his soul to heaven has flown.