Francis James Child

“ For the Earl of Aboyne he is coming.'
She has to her low gates gane,
To see if she saw him coming,
And long seven miles before they came to town
She heard their bridles ringing.
'Come kiss me, come kiss me, madam,' he says,
'Come kiss me for my coming,
For the morn should hae been my wedding-day
Had I staid any longer in London.'
She's turned about with an angry look,
Says, Woe's me for thy coming!
If the morn should hae been your wedding-day
Go back and kiss your whores in London.
They've turned their horses' heads around,
Their faces all for London ”

“ He called on his best serving-man,
I wat the caed him Peter Gordon:
'Gae get our horses sadled wi speed,
Woe's me for our hame-comin!
. . . .
. . . .
'For we will a' be in black, fra the hose to the hat,
Woe's me for bonny Margat Irvine!
'We must to the North, to bury her corps,
Alas for our hame-comin!
I rather I had lost a' the lands o Aboyne
Or I had lost bonny Margat Irvine.'
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THE guid Earl o Boyn's awa to Lonon gone,
An a' his gallan grooms wie him,
But, for a' the ribbons that hing at her hat,
He has left his fair lady behind him. ”

“ For the night we'll alight at the bonny Bog o Gight,
Tomorrow tak horse for Lunan.'
'O Thomas, my man, gae after him,
An spier gin I'll win wi him;'
'Yes, madam, I hae pleaded for thee,
But a mile ye winna win wi him.'
Here and there she ran in care,
An doctors wi her dealin;
But in a crak her bonny heart brak,
And letters gaed to Lunan.
When he saw the letter sealed wi black,
He fell on 's horse weeping:
'If she be dead that I love best,
She has my heart a keepin.
'My nobles all, ye'll turn your steeds,
That comely face [I] may see then ”