'But I will get a bonny boat, And I will sail the sea, And I will gang to Lord Gregory Syne she's gar'd build a bonny boat The sails were o' the gude green silk, She hadna sailed but twenty leagues, 'Now whether are ye the queen hersell, (For so ye well might be,) Or are ye the lass o' Lochroyan, 'O I am not the queen,' she said, 'O see ye na yon stately tower, That's covered o'er wi' tin ; When thou hast sailed it round about, And when she saw the stately tower That stood aboon the jarring wave Says;-Row the boat, my mariners, And bring me to the land, She sailed it round, and sailed it round, 'Now break, now break, ye fairy charms, And set my true love free!' She's ta'en her young son in her arms, And to the door she's gane; And lang she knocked, and sair she ca'd, But answer got she nane. For the wind blaws through my yellow hair, And the rain drops o'er my chin.' 'Awa, awa, ye ill woman, Ye're no come here for good, Ye're but some witch, or wild warlock, 'I am neither witch, nor wild warlock, Nor mermaid o' the sea, But I am Annie of Lochroyan; 'Gin thou be the lass o' Lochroyan, (As I trow thou binna she,) Tell me some of the love-tokens, That pass'd between thee and me.' 'O dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory, As we sat at the wine, We changed the rings from our fingers, And I can show thee thine? "O yours was gude, and gude enough, 'Now open the door, Lord Gregory! For thy young son is in my arms, If thou be Annie of Lochroyan, (As I kenna thou be,) Tell me some mair o' the love-tokens, That pass'd between me and thee.' Fair Annie turned her round about: 'And O! if it be sae, May never a woman that has borne a son Hae a heart sae fou o' wae! 'Take down, take down, that mast o' gowd! Set up a mast o' tree! It disna become a forsaken lady To sail sae royally!' When the cock had crawn and the day did dawn, And the sun began to peep, Then up and raise him Lord Gregory And sair sair did he weep. 'OI hae dreamed a dream, mother, 'OI hae dreamed a dream, mother, The thought o't gars me greet! That fair Annie o' Lochroyan Lay cauld dead at my feet.' 'Gin it be for Annie of Lochroyan, 'O wae betide ye, ill woman! O he's gane down to yon shore side He saw fair Annie in the boat But the wind it rocked her sair. 'And hey, Annie, and how, Annie ! And hey, Annie, and how, Annie, The wind blew loud, the sea grew rough Lord Gregory tore his yellow hair, Her fair young son was gone. |