The Laird o Drum (Child 236D)

The laird o Drum is a hunting gane,
All in a morning early,
And he did spy a well-far’d may,
Was shearing at her barley.

‘O will ye fancy me, fair may,
And let your shearing be, O
And gang and be the lady o Drum?
O will ye fancy me?’ O

‘I winna fancy you,’ she says,
‘Nor let my shearing be;
For I’m ower low to be Lady Drum,
And your miss I’d scorn to be.’

‘But ye’ll cast aff that gown o grey,
Put on the silk and scarlet;
I’ll make a vow, and keep it true,
You’ll neither be miss nor harlot.’

‘Then dee you to my father dear,
Keeps sheep on yonder hill;
To ony thing he bids me do
I’m always at his will.’

He has gane to her father dear,
Keeps sheep on yonder hill:
‘I’m come to marry your ae daughter,
If ye’ll gie me your gude will.’

‘She’ll shake your barn, and winna your corn,
And gang to mill and kill;
In time of need she’ll saddle your steed;
And I’ll draw your boots mysell.’

‘O wha will bake my bridal bread,
And wha will brew my ale,
And wha will welcome my lady hame,
It’s mair than I can tell.’

Four an twenty gentle knights
Gied in at the yetts o Drum;
But nae a man lifted his hat
Whan the lady o Drum came in.

But he has taen her by the hand,
And led her but and ben;
Says, You’r welcome hame, my lady Drum,
For this is your ain land.

For he has taen her by the hand,
And led her thro the ha;
Says, You’r welcome hame, my lady Drum,
To your bowers ane and a’.

Then he [’s] stript her o the robes o grey,
Drest her in the robes o gold,
And taen her father frae the sheep-keeping,
Made him a bailie bold.

She wasna forty weeks his wife
Till she brought hame a son;
She was as well a loved lady
As ever was in Drum.

Out it speaks his brother dear,
Says, You’ve dune us great wrang;
You’ve married a wife below your degree,
She’s a mock to all our kin.

Out then spake the Laird of Drum,
Says, I’ve dune you nae wrang;
I’ve married a wife to win my bread,
You’ve married ane to spend.

‘For the last time that I was married,
She was far abeen my degree;
She wadna gang to the bonny yetts o Drum
But the pearlin abeen her ee,
And I durstna gang in the room where she was
But my hat below my knee.’

When they had eaten and well drunken,
And all men bound for bed,
The Laird o Drum and his lady gay
In ae bed they were laid.

‘Gin ye had been o high renown,
As ye are o low degree,
We might hae baith gane down the streets
Amang gude companie.’

‘I tauld you ere we were wed
You were far abeen my degree;
But now I’m married, in your bed laid,
And just as gude as ye.

‘Gin ye were dead, and I were dead,
And baith in grave had lain,
Ere seven years were at an end,
They’d not ken your dust frae mine.’