LASS OF LOCH ROYALE (LORD GREGORY)



"Oh wha will lace my shoes sae sma'

And wha will glove my hand

And wha will lace my middle sae jimp

Wi' my new-made linen band?



"Wha will kaim my yellow hair

Wi' my new siller kaim

And wha will faither my young son

Till Lord Gregory come hame?



"But I will get a bonnie boat

And I will sail the sea

For I maun gang to Lord Gregory

Since he canna come hame to me



"Oh row ye boat, ye mariners

And bring me to dry land

For yonder I see my love's castel

Close by the saut sea strand



"Oh open the door, Lord Gregory

Open and let me in

For the wind blows through my yellow hair

And I am shivering to the chin"



"Awa', awa' ye wile woman

Some ill death may ye dee

Ye're but a witch or a wild warlock

Or mermaid o' the sea"



"I'm neither a witch nor a wild warlock

Nor mermaid o' the sea

But I'm fair Annie o' Roch Royal

Oh, open the door to me



"Oh dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory

When ye sat at the wine

We changed the rings frae our fingers

And I can show thee thine



"Oh, dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory

When in my faither's ha'

'Twas there ye got your will o' me

And that was worst o' a'"



"Awa', awa', ye wile woman

For here ye sanna win in

Gae droon ye in the saut, saut sea

Or hang on the gallow's pin"



When the cock did craw and the day did daw'

And the sun began to peep

Then up did rise Lord Gregory

And sair, sair did he weep



"I dreamt a dream, my mither dear

The thocht o't gars me greet

I dreamed fair Annie o' Roch Royal

Lay cauld deid at my feet"



"Gin it be Annie o' Roch Royal

That gars ye mak' this din

She stood a' nicht at our ha' door

But I didna let her in"



"Oh wae betide ye, ill woman

Some ill death may ye dee

That ye wadna be letten poor Annie in

Or else hae waukened me"



He's gane doon tae yon sea shore

As fast as he could fare

And he saw fair Annie in her boat

And the wind it tossed her sair



The wind blew loud and the sea grew rough

And the boat was dashed on shore

Fair Annie floated on the wave

But her young son rose no more



Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair

And made his heavy moan

Fair Annie lay deid at his feet

But his bonnie young son was gane



"Oh wae betide ye, cruel mither

Some ill death may ye dee

That ye couldna hae letten fair Annie in

When she came sae far tae me"



Child #76

@Scots @ballad @sea @bastard @family

first published in 1776

from Ewan MacColl's Folk Songs and Ballads of Scotland

filename[ LORGREG2

SF

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