Classic Poem

Rob Roy 's from the Hielands come
Unto our Lowland border,
And he has stolen a lady away,
To keep his house in order.

Rob Roy 's come to Blackhill's gate,
Twenty men his arms did carry,
And he has stolen a lady away,
On purpose her to marry.

None knew till he surrounded the house,
No tidings came before him,
Or else she had been gone away,
For she did still abhor him.

All doors and windows guarded were,
None could the plot discover;
Himself went in and found her out,
Professing how he loved her.

" Come go with me, my dear," he said,
" Come go with me, my honey,
And you shall be my wedded wife,
I love you best of onie."

" I will not go with you," she said,
" Nor will I be your honey;
I neer shall be your wedded wife,
You love me for my money."

But he her drew amongst his crew,
She holding by her mother;
With mournful cries and watery eyes
They parted from each other.

No time they gave her to be dressed
As ladies when they 're brides, O,
But hurried her away in haste;
They rowed her in their plaids, O.

As they went over hills and rocks,
The lady often fainted;
Says, Wae may it be, my cursed money,
This road to me invented!

They passed away by Drymen town,
And at Buchanan tarried;
They bought to her a cloak and gown,
Yet she would not be married.

But without consent they joined their hands;
By law ought not to carry;
The priest his zeal it was so hot
On her will he would not tarry.

Four held her up before the priest,
Two laid her in the bed, O;
Och, mournfully she weeped and cried
When she by him was laid, O.

" Now you 're come to the Highland hills,
Out of your native clime, lady,
Never think of going back,
But take this for your hame, lady.

" Be content, be content,
Be content to stay, lady;
Now ye are my wedded wife
Unto your dying day, lady.

" O Rob Roy was my father called,
But McGregor was his name, lady;
In all the country far and near
None did exceed his fame, lady.

" I 'm as bold, I 'm as bold,
I 'm as bold as he, lady;
In France and Ireland I 'll dance and fight,
And from them take the gree, lady.

" He was a hedge about his friends,
But a heckle to his faes, lady,
And every one that did him wrong,
He took them owre the nose, lady.

" I 'm as bold, I 'm as bold,
I 'm as bold, and more, lady;
Every one that does me wrong
Shall feel my good claymore, lady.

" My father he has stots and ewes,
And he has goats and sheep, lady,
But you and twenty thousand punds
Makes me a man complete, lady."