Classic Poem

Rob Roy frae the Hielands cam
Unto the Lawland border,
And he has stown a ladie fair,
To haud his house in order.

He guarded the house round about,
Himsel went in and found her out,
She hung close by her mither;
Wi dolefu cries and watery eyes
They parted frae each ither.

‘Gang wi me, my dear,’ he says,
‘Gang and be my honey;
Gang and be my wedded wife,
I loe ye best o onie.’

‘I winna gang wi you,’ she says,
‘I winna be your honey;
I winna be your wedded wife;
Ye loe me for my money.’

He gied na her na time to dress
As ladies whan they 're brides,
But hurried her awa wi speed,
And rowd her in his plaids.

He gat her up upon a horse,
Himsel lap on ahind her;
And they 're awa to the Hieland hills;
Her friends they canna find her.

As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,
This lady aften fainted,
Saying, Wae be to my cursed gowd,
This road to me invented!

As they gaed oure the Hieland hills,
And at Buchanan tarried,
He bought to her baith cloak and goun,
Yet she wadna be married.

Six held her up afore the priest,
Four laid her in a bed, O;
Maist mournfully she wept and cried
Whan she bye him was laid, O.

‘O be content, be content,
Be content to stay, ladie;
For now ye are my wedded wife
Unto your dying day, ladie.

‘Rob Roy was my father calld,
M'Gregor was his name, ladie;
And in a' the country whare he dwalt
He exceeded ae in fame, ladie.

‘He was a hedge unto his friends,
A heckle to his faes, ladie;
And ilka ane that did him wrang,
He beat him on the neis, ladie.

‘I 'm as bold, I am as bold
As my father was afore, ladie;
Ilka ane that does me wrang
Sall feel my gude claymore, ladie.

‘There neer was frae Lochlomond west
That eer I did him fear, ladie;
For, if his person did escape,
I seizd upon his gear, ladie.

‘My father delights in horse and kye,
In sheep and goats and a', ladie,
And thee wi me and thirty merks
Will mak me a man fu braw, ladie.

‘I hae been in foreign lands,
And servd the king o France, ladie;
We will get the bagpipes,
And we 'll hae a dance, ladie.’