Classic Poem

‘Buchan, it 's bonnie, an there lies my love,
My heart is fixt on him, it winna remove;
It winna remove for a' at I can dee,
An I never will forsake him Young Annochie.’

Her father cam trippin, cam trippin ben the floor,
Says, Jeannie, ye hae but the tricks o a whore;
Ye care little for the man that cares muckle for thee,
But I 'll cause you marry Saltoun, let Annochie be.
But whan I 'm at hame on bonnie Deeside
They ca me The Ranting Laddie.’

‘Awa wi your jesting, sir,’ she said,
‘I trow you 're a ranting laddie;
But something swells atween my sides,
And I maun ken how they ca thee.’

‘They ca me this, and they ca me that,
And they 're easy how they ca me;
The Baron o Leys my title is,
And Sandy Burnet they ca me.’

‘Tell down, tell down ten thousand crowns,
Or ye maun marry me the morn;
Or headit or hangit ye sall be,
For ye sanna gie me the scorn.’

‘My head 's the thing I canna weel want;
My lady she loves me dearlie;
Nor yet hae I means ye to maintain;
Alas for the lying sae near thee!’

But word 's gane doun to the Lady o Leys
That the Baron had got a babie:
‘The waurst o news!’ my lady she said,
‘I wish I had hame my laddie.

‘But I 'll sell aff my jointure-house,
Tho na mair I sud be a ladie;
I 'll sell a' to my silken goun,
And bring hame my rantin laddie.’

So she is on to London gane,
And she paid the money on the morn;
She paid it doun and brought him hame,
And gien them a' the scorn.