The Lass of Roch Royal
No: 76; variant: 76F
- ‘O WHA will lace my steys, mother?
O wha will gluve my hand?
O wha will be my bairn’s father,
While my luve cums to land?’
- ‘O sall I lace your steys, dochter,
O sall I gluve your hand;
And God will be your bairn’s father,
While your luve cums to land.’
- Now she’s gard build a bonie schip,
Forbidden she wad nae be;
She’s gane wi four score mariners,
Sailand the salt, salt sea.
- They had nae saild but twenty legues,
Bot twenty legues and three,
When they met wi the ranke robers,
And a’ their companie.
- ‘Now whether are ye the Queen hersell?
For so ye weel micht bee,
Or are ye the lass o the Ruch Royal,
Seekand Lord Gregorie?’
- ‘O I am neither the Queen,’ she sed,
‘Nor sick I seem to be;
But I am the lass o the Ruch Royal,
Seekand Lord Gregorie.’
- And when she saw the stately tower,
Shynand sae cleere and bricht,
Whilk proud defies the jawing wave,
Built on a rock a hicht,
- Sche sailed it round, and sailed it sound,
And loud, loud cried she,
‘Now break, now break, ye fairy charms,
And let the prisoner free.’