Classic Poem

The Laird of Leys is on to Edinbrugh
To shaw a fit o' his follie;
He drest himsel in the crimson-brown
An' he prov'd a rantin laddie.

Ben came a weel-fair'd lass,
Says, Laddie, how do they ca' ye?
They ca' me this an' the ca' me that,
Ye wudna ken fat they ca' me;
But whan I'm at hame on bonnie Deeside
They ca' me The Rantin Laddie.

They sought her up, they sought her down,
They sought her in the parlour;
She coudna be got but whar she was,
In the bed wi' The Rantin Laddie.

Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys,
Ye tell me how they ca' ye;
Your gentle blood moves in my side
An' I dinna ken how they ca' ye.

They ca' me this an' they ca' me that,
Ye couldna ken how they ca' me;
But whan I'm at hame on bonnie Deeside
They ca' me The Rantin Laddie.

Tell me, tell me, Baron of Leys,
Ye tell me how they ca' ye;
Your gentle blood moves in my side
An' I dinna ken how to ca' ye.

Baron of Leys it is my stile,
Alexander Burnett they ca' me;
Whan I'm at hame on bonnie Deeside
My name is The Rantin Laddie.

Gin your name be Alexander Burnett,
Alas that ever I saw ye;
For ye hae a wife and bairns at hame,
An' alas for lyin sae near ye!

But I'se gar ye be headit or hang't,
Or marry me the morn;
Or else pay down ten thousand crowns
For gi'ein o' me the scorn.

For my head, I canna want;
I love my lady dearly;
But some o' my lands I maun lose in the case,
Alas for lyin sae near ye!

Word has gane to the Lady of Leys
That the laird he had a bairn;
The warst word she said to that was,
I wish I had it in my arms.

For I will sell my jointure-lands--
I am broken an' I'm sorry--
An' I'll sell a', to my silk gowns,
An' get hame my rantin laddie.