PR Website - The Earl of Errol

No: 231; variant: 231B

EARELL is a bonny place, It stands upon yon plain; The greatest faut about the place Earell's no a man. What ye ca the danting o 't, According as ye ken, For the pearting . . . Lady Earell lyes her lane.
Earell is a bonny place, It stands upon yon plain; The roses they graw red an white, An apples they graw green.
'What need I my apron wash An hing upon yon pin? For lang will I gae out an in Or I hear my bairnie's din.
'What need I my apron wash An hing upo yon door? For side and wide is my petticoat, An even down afore.
'But I will lace my stays again, My middle jimp an sma; I'l gae a' my days a maiden, [Awa], Earell, awa!'
It fell ance upon a day Lord Earell Went to hunt him lane, . . . . . . .
He was na a mile fra the town, Nor yet sae far awa, Till his lady is on to Edinburgh, To try hir all the law.
Little did Lord Earell think, Whan he sat down to dine, That his lady was on to Edinburgh, Nor what was in her mind.
Till his best servant came For to lat him ken . . . . . . .
She was na in at the toun-end, Nor yet sae far awa, Till Earell was at her back, His gaudy locks to sha.
She was na in at the loan-head, Nor just at the end, Till Earell he was at her back, Her errand for to ken.
As lang as they ca ye Kate Carnegie, An me Sir Gilbert Hay, I's gar yer father sell Kinaird, Yer tocher for to pay.'
'For to gar my father sell Kinnaird, It wad be a sin, To gee it to ony naughty knight That a tocher canna win.'
Out spak the first lord, The best amang them a'; 'I never seed a lady come Wi sick matters to the law.'
Out spak the neest lord, The best o the town; 'Ye get fifteen well-fared maids, An put them in a roun, An Earell in the midst o them, An lat him chuse out ane.'
They ha gotten fifteen well-fared maids, An pit them in a roun, An Earell in the mids o them, An bad him chuse out ane.
He viewed them a' intill a raw, Even up and down, An he has chosen a well-fared may, An meggie was her name.
He took her by the hand, Afore the nobles a', An twenty times he kissed her mou, An led her thro the ha.
'Look up, Megie, look up, Megie, [Look up,] an think na shame; As lang as ye see my gaudy locks, Lady Earell's be yer name.'
There were fifteen noblemen, An as mony laides gay, To see Earell proven a man . . . .
'Ye tak this well-fared may, And keep her three roun raiths o a year, An even at the three raiths' end I sall draw near.'
They hae taen that well-fared may, An keepd her three roun raiths o a year, And even at the three raiths' end Earell's son she bare.
The gentlemen they ga a shout, The ladies ga a caa, Fair mat fa him Earell! But ran to his lady.
He was na in at the town-head, Nor just at the end, Till the letters they were waiting him That Earell had a son.
'Look up, Meggie, look up, Meggie, [Look up,] an think na shame; As lang as ye see my bra black hat, Lady Earell's be yer name.
'I will gie my Meggie a mill, But an a piece o land, . . . . To foster my young son.
'Faur is a' my merry men a', That I pay meat an gaire, To convey my Meggy hame, . . . ?'
. . . . . . Even in Lord Earell's coach They conveyed the lassie hame.
'Take hame yer daughter, Lord Kinnaird, An take her to the glen, For Earell canna pleas her, Earell nor a' his men.'
'Had I ben Lady Earell, Of sic a bonny place, I wad na gaen to Edinburgh My husband to disgrace.'