Blae berries, or, The highland laird's courtship to a farmer's daughter/Blae berries, or, The highland laird's courtship to a farmer's daughter

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THE BLAE-BERRY GARLAND.

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⁠Will you go to the highlands, my jewel, with me,
Will you go to the highlands, the flocks for to see,
It is health to my jewel to breath the sweet air,
And to pull the blae-berries in the forest so fair.

⁠To the highlands, my jewel, I’ll not go with thee
For the road it is long, and the hills they are high,
I love these vallies and sweet corn fields,
More than all the blae-berries your wild mountain yield.

⁠Our hills are bonny when the heather’s in bloom
It would chear a fine fancy in the month of June,
To pull the blae-berries and carry them home,
Set them on your table when December comes on.

⁠Out spake her Father, that saucy old man,
You might chosen a mistress among your own clan,
It's but poor entertainment to our la'land dames,
To promise them berries and blue heather's bloom

⁠Kilt up your green plaidie, walk over yon hill,
For a sight of your highland face does me much ill
For I'd wed my daughter and spare pennies too,
To whom my heart pleases, and what's that to you

⁠My plaid it is broad, it has colours anew,
Goodman, for your kindness, I'll leave it with you
I've got a warm cordial keeps the cold from me,
The blythe blink of love from your daughter's eye.

⁠My flocks are but thin, and my lodging but bare,
And you that has meikle the mair you can spare,
Some of your spare pennies wi' me you will share,
And ye winna send your lassie o’er the hills bare.

⁠He went to his Daughter to give her advice,
Said, If you go with him, I'm sure you’re not wise;
He’s a rude highland fellow, as poor as a crow,
He’s the clan of the Catrines for ought that I know.

⁠But if you go with him I’m sure you’ll go bare,
You shall have nothing that Father or Mother can spare;
Of all I posses, I’ll deprive you for ay,
⟨If⟩ over the hill, lassie, you do go away.

⁠It’s Father keep what you’re not willing to give,
or fain I’d go with him as sure as I live;
What signifies gold or treasure to me,
When the highland hills is ’tween my love and me.

⁠Now she has gone with him in spite o’ them a’,
Away to a place that her eyes never saw;
(illegible text) he had no sted for to carrv her on,
But still he said, Lassie, think not the road long.

⁠In a warm summer’s evening they came to a glen’
Being wearied with travel, the Lassie sat down;
He said, Get up brave Lassie, and let us step on,
or the sun will go round before we get home.

⁠My feet are all torn, my shoes are all rent,
⟨I'm⟩ weary with travel, and just like to faint;
Were it not for the sake of your kind company,
⟨I⟩ would lye in this desart until that I die.

⁠The day is far spent, and the night coming on,
(illegible text) aside to yon bonny mill-town,
And there ask for lodging to thee and to me,
For I would be glad in a barn for to be.

⁠The place it is bonny and pleasant indeed,
But the people’s hard-hearted to us that’s in need,
Perhaps they’ll not grant us their barn nor byre,
But I’ll go and ask them, as it’s your desire.

⁠The Lassie went foremost, sure I was to blame,
To ask for a lodging, myself, I thought shame;
The Lassie replied with tears not a few,
It’s ill ale, said she, that’s sour when it’s new.

⁠In a short time thereafter, they came to a grow,
Where his flocks they were feeding in numberless droves,
Allan stood musing his flocks for to see,
Step on, says the Lady, that’s nae pleasure to me.

⁠A beautiful Lady with green tartan trouse,
And twa bonny Lasses were bughting his ewes,
They said, Honoured Master, are you come again?
Long, long have we look’d for your coming hame.

⁠Bught is your ewes lasses and go your way hame,
I’ve brought a Swan frae the north I have her to name
Her feathers are fallen, and where can she lye?
The best bed in the house her bed shall be.

⁠The Lady’s heart was far down, it cou’dna well rise
Till mony a lad and a lass came in wi' a fraise,
To welcome the Lady, to welcome her home,
Such a hall in the highlands she never thought on.

⁠The Laddies did whistle, and the Lasses did sing
They made her a supper might have sercan spare,
With ale & good whisky they drank her health roun’,
And they made'to the Lassie a braw bed of down.

⁠Early next morning he led her to the hay,
He bid her look round her as far’s she could spy,
These lands and possessions my debts are to pay,
And ye winna go round’em in a lang summer day.

⁠O Allan, O Allan, I’m indebted to thee,
⟨It⟩ is a debt, dear Allan, I never can pay;
O Allan, O Allan, how came you for me?
⟨Sure⟩ I am not worthy your bride for to be.

⁠How call ye me Allan when Sandy’s my name,
Why call ye me Allan, sure ye are to blame;
⟨For⟩ don’t ye remember, when at school with thee,
⟨I⟩ was hated by all the rest, loved by thee.

⁠How oft have I fed on your bread and your cheese,
Likewise when ye had but a handful of pease;
Your cruel-hearted Father hound at me his dogs,
They tore all my bare-heels, and rave all my rags.

⁠Is this my dear Sandy which I lov’d so dear!
I have not heard of you this many a year;
When all the rest went to bed, sleep went frae me,
For thinking on what was become of thee.

⁠My parents were born long time before me,
Perhaps by this time they are drown’d in the sea ;
These lands and possessions they left them to me,
And I came for you, jewel, to share them with thee.

⁠In love we began and in love we will end,
(illegible text) and mirth our days we will spend,
And a voyage to your Father once more we will go,
And relieve the old farmer, from his trouble and wo.

⁠With men and maid-servants us to wait upon,
And away in a chaise to her Father they are gone ;
The laddie went foremost, the brave highland lown,
Till they came to the road that leads to the town.

⁠When he came to the gate he gave a loud roar,
Come down gentle farmer, Catrine’s at your door ;
He look'd out at the window, saw his daughter's face,
With his hat in his hand he made a great fraise.

⁠Keep on your hat Farmer, don t let it fa' ,
For it sets not the Peacock to bow to the Craw.
O hold your tongue, Sawny, and do not taunt me,
For my daughter’s not worthy your bride for to be.

⁠Now he’s held the bridle reins till he came down,
And then he convey’d them to a fine room ;
With the finest of spirits they drink a fine tost,
And the son and the father, drank both of one glass.

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