Baby Livingston

O bonny Baby LivingstonWent forth to view the hay,And by it came him Glenlyon,Sta’ bonny Baby away.

O first he’s ta’en her silken coat,And neist her satten gown,Syne row’d her in a tartan plaid,And hap’d her roun’ and roun’.

He has set her upon his steedAnd roundly rode away,And ne’er loot her look back againThe live-long summer’s day.

He’s carried her o’er hills and muirsTill they came to a Highland glen,And there he’s met his brother John,With twenty armèd men.

O there were cows, and there were ewes,And lasses milking there!But Baby ne’er ance look’d about,Her heart was fill’d wi’ care.

Glenlyon took her in his arms,And kiss’d her, cheek and chin;Says, ‘I’d gie a’ these cows and ewesBut ae kind look to win.’--

‘O ae kind look ye ne’er shall get,Nor win a smile frae me,Unless to me you’ll favour shew,And take me to Dundee.’--

‘Dundee, Baby? Dundee, Baby?Dundee you ne’er shall seeTill I’ve carried you to GlenlyonAnd have my bride made thee.

‘We’ll stay a while at Auchingour,And get sweet milk and cheese,And syne we’ll gang to Glenlyon,And there live at our ease.’--

‘I winna stay at Auchingour,Nor eat sweet milk and cheese,Nor go with thee to Glenlyon,For there I’ll ne’er find ease.’

Then out it spake his brother John,‘O were I in your place,I’d take that lady hame again,For a’ her bonny face.

‘Commend me to the lass that’s kind,Tho’ na so gently born;And, gin her heart I coudna gain,To take her hand I’d scorn.’--

‘O haud your tongue now, John,’ he says,‘You wis na what you say;For I have lo’ed that bonny faceThis twelve month and a day.

‘And tho’ I’ve lo’ed her lang and sair,A smile I ne’er cou’d win;Yet what I’ve got ance in my powerTo keep I think nae sin.’

When they came to Glenlyon Castle,They lighted at the yate,And out it came his sisters three,Wha did them kindly greet.

O they’ve ta’en Baby by the handsAnd led her o’er the green,And ilka lady spake a word,But bonny Baby spake nane.

Then out it spake her bonny Jean,The youngest o’ the three;‘O lady, dinna look sae sad,But tell your grief to me.’--

‘O wherefore should I tell my grief,Since lax I canna find?I’m stown frae a’ my kin and friends,And my love I left behind.

‘But had I paper, pen, and ink,Before that it were day,I yet might get a letter sentIn time to Johny Hay.’

O she’s got paper, pen, and ink,And candle that she might see,And she has written a broad letterTo Johny at Dundee.

And she has gotten a bonny boy,That was baith swift and strang,Wi’ philabeg and bonnet blue,Her errand for to gang.

‘O boy, gin ye’d my blessing winAnd help me in my need,Run wi’ this letter to my love,And bid him come wi’ speed.

‘And here’s a chain of good red gowd,And gowden guineas three,And when you’ve well your errand done,You’ll get them for your fee.’

The boy he ran o’er hill and dale,Fast as a bird cou’d flee,And ere the sun was twa hours heightThe boy was at Dundee.

And when he came to Johny’s doorHe knockèd loud and sair;Then Johny to the window came,And loudly cry’d, ‘Wha’s there?’--

‘O here’s a letter I have brought,Which ye maun quickly read,And, gin ye wou’d your lady save,Gang back wi’ me wi’ speed.’

O when he had the letter read,An angry man was he;He says, ‘Glenlyon, thou shalt rueThis deed of villany!

‘Woe be to thee, Glenlyon!’ he says,‘An ill death may thou dee!Thou micht hae ta’en anither woman,And let my lady be.

‘O saddle to me the black, the black,O saddle to me the brown,O saddle to me the swiftest steedThat e’er rade frae the town.

‘And arm ye well, my merry men a’,And follow me to the glen,For I vow I’ll neither eat nor sleepTill I get my love again.’

He’s mounted on a milk-white steed,The boy upon a gray,And they got to Glenlyon’s castleAbout the close of day.

As Baby at her window stood,The west wind saft did bla’;She heard her Johny’s well-kent voiceBeneath the castle wa’.

‘O Baby, haste, the window jump!I’ll kep you in my arm;My merry men a’ are at the yate,To rescue you frae harm.’

She’s to the window fixt her sheetsAnd slippèd safely down,And Johny catch’d her in his arms,Ne’er loot her touch the ground.

She’s mounted on her Johny’s horse,Fu’ blithely can she say,--‘Glenlyon, you hae lost your bride!She’s aff wi’ Johny Hay!’

Glenlyon and his brother JohnWere birling in the ha’,When they heard Johny’s bridle ring,As fast he rade awa’.

‘Rise, Jock! gang out and meet the priest,I hear his bridle ring!My Baby now shall be my wifeBefore the laverocks sing.’--

‘O brother, this is not the priest;I fear he’ll come owre late;For armèd men with shining brandsStand at the castle-yate.’--

‘Haste Donald, Duncan, Dugald, Hugh!Haste, take your sword and spier!We’ll gar these traytors rue the hourThat e’er they ventured here.’

The Highland men drew their claymores,And gae a warlike shout,But Johny’s merry men kept the yate,Nae ane durst venture out.

The lovers rade the live-lang night,And safe gat on their way,And bonny Baby LivingstonHas gotten Johny Hay.

‘Awa’, Glenlyon! fy for shame!Gae hide ye in some den!You’ve latten your bride be stown frae you,For a’ your armed men.’