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O fell out upon a day, When Drums was going to ride, O And there he met with a well-far'd may, Keeping her flocks on yon side. O 'O fair may, O rare may, Can not you fancy me? Of a' the lasses here about I like nane so well as thee.' 'Set your love on another, kind sir, Set it not on me, For I'm not fit to be your bride, And your whore I'll never be.' Drums is to her father gane, Keeping his flocks on yon hill, And he has gotten his consent, And the maid was at his will. 'My daughter can neither read nor write, She was neer brought up at school; But well can she milk cow and ewe, And make a kebbuck well. 'She'll winn in your barn at bear-seed time, Cast out your muck at Yule; She'll saddle your steed in time o need, Draw aff your boots hersell.' 'Have not I no clergymen? Pay I no clergy fee? I'll school her as I think fit, And as I think fit to be.' Drums is to the Highlands gane For to be made ready, And a' the gentry thereabout Says, Yonder comes Drums and his lady. 'Peggy Coutts is a very bonnie bride, And Drums is a wealthy laddie; But Drums might hae chosen a higher match Than any shepherd's daughter.' Then up bespake his brother John, Says, Brother you've done us wrong; You've married ane below our degree, A stain to a' our kin. 'Hold your tongue, my brother John, I have done you no wrong; For I've married ane to wirk and win, And ye've married ane to spend. 'The last time that I had a wife, She was above my degree; I durst not come in her presence But with my hat on my knee.' There was four-and-twenty gentlemen Stood at the yetts o Drum; There was na ane amang them a' That welcomd his lady in. He's taen her by the milk-white hand And led her in himsell, And in thro ha's and thro bowers, 'And you're welcome, Lady o Drum.' Thrice he kissd her cherry cheek, And thrice her cherry chin, And twenty times her comely mouth, 'And you're welcome, Lady o Drum.' 'Ye shall be cook in my kitchen, Butler in my ha; Ye shall be lady at my command When I ride far awa.' 'But what will I do when auld Drum dies, When auld Drum dies and leaves me? Then I'll tak back my word again, And the Coutts will come and see me.' * * * * = = was a knight, [an a gallant knight,] An a gallant knight was he, An he's faen in love Wi his shepherd's daghterie. . . . . He could neither gang nor ride, He fell so deep in her fancy, Till his nose began to bleed. 'Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a' the maid[s] I ever saw, There is nane I loo by you.' 'Ye'r a shepherd's ae daghter, An I'm a barron's son; An what pleasure I wad hae To see ye gae out an in!' 'I'm a shepherd's ae dochter, An ye'r a barron's son; An there is nae pleasure I could ha To see ye gae out or in. . . . . . . . . 'For I wadna gie the fancy of my bonny love For na love nor favour o you.' 'Bonny may, an bra may, Canna ye on me rue? By a' the maids I ever saw There is nane I loo by you.' 'Lay ne yer fancy, sir, on me,' she says, 'Lay na yer fancy on me; For I'm our low to be your bride, An yer quine I'll never be. 'For I will wear nane o yer silks, Nor nane o yer scarlet claes; For the hue o the whin shall be my gown, An I will gae as I pleas.' . . . . . . . 'Ye'r na our laigh to be my bride, An my quine ye's never be. 'Bonny may, and bra may, Winna ye on me rue? By a' the maids I ever see, There's nane I loo but you.' 'Gin ye ha faen so deep in my fancy Ye can neither gan[g] nor ride, Gae tak me to the middle o the ring, An bring me guid companie.' He has taen her by the milk-white hand And led her thro haas an bowers: 'Ye'r the chioce of my heart, An a' I hae is yours.' He took her by the milk-white hand And led her out and in: 'Ye'r the choice o my heart, My dear, ye'r welcome in.' Out spake his brither John, 'Brither, ye ha done great wrong; Ye hae married a wife this night Disdained by a' yer kin.' 'Hold yer tong, my brither John, For I hae don na wrong; For I ha married a wife to . . . , An ye ha ane to spend.' = = was a shepherd's daughter Sheering at the bear, And by cam the Laird o Drum, On an evening clear. 'O will ye fancy me, fair maid? O will ye fancy me? O will ye fancy me, fair maid, An lat the sheering be?' 'O say na sae again, kind sir, O say na sae again; I'm owr low to be your bride, Ye'r born owr high a man.' Said, Fair maid, O rare maid, Will ye on me rue? Amang a' the lasses o the land I fancy nane but you. 'Lay your love on another,' she said, 'And lay it not on me, For I'm owr low to be your bride, Your miss I'll never be. 'Yonder is my father dear, Wi hogs upon yon hill; Gif ye get but his consent, I shall be at your will.' He's taen him to her father dear, Keeps hogs upon yon hill, An he has gotten his consent, The may was at his will.