Blaeberries, or, The highland laird's courtship to a farmer's daughter/The blaeberries; or, The highland laird's courtship to a farmer's daughter

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BLAE-BERRIE GARLAND.

⁠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 tho forest so fair.

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

⁠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 faucy old man,
You might a chosen a mistress among your own clan,
It’s but poor entertainment to our la’land dames,
To promise them berries and blue heather blooms.

⁠Kilt up your green plaidie; walk over yon hill,
For a sight o' your highland face does me much ill,
For I’ll 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 blinks of love from your daughter's eye.

⁠My flocks they are thin, and my lodging but bare.
And you that has meikle, the mair ye can spare.
Some of your spare pennies with me ye 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 possess I’ll deprive you for ay,
If o’er the hills lassie you do go away.

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

⁠Now she has gone with him in spite o’ them a’,
Away to a place that her eyes never saw,
O he had no steed for to carry her on,
But still he said, lassie, think not the road long.

⁠In a warm summer’s ev’ning they came to a glen,
Being wearied with travel, the lassie sat down;
He said, get up brave lassie, and let us step on,
For the fun will go round before we win home.

⁠My feet are all torn, my shoes are all rent,
I’m weary’d 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,
And step you aside to yon bonny mill-town,
And there ask for lodging to thee and to me,
For I would be glad in a barn 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 grove,
Where his flocks they were feeding in numbers (droves,
Allan stood musing his flocks for to see,
Step on, says the lady, that’s no pleasure to me.

⁠A beautiful lady with green tartan trouse,
And twa bonny lasses were bughting his ewes,
They said, Honour’d master, are you come again?
Long, long have we look’d for you coming hame.

⁠Bught in your ewes lasses and go your way hame,
I've brought a swan from 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 lass came in with a sraise,
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 served a queen;
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 cou’d spy,
These lands and possessions my debts for to pay,
And ye winna go round ’em in a long 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 nam
Why call you me Allan, sure you are to blame;
For don’t you remember when at school with thee,
I was hated by all the rest, loved by thee.

⁠How oft have I fed on your bread & your cheese ?
Likewise when you 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 whom I lov’d so dear!
I have not heard of you this many a year,
When all the rest went to bed, sleep was 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,
And in joy 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 to her father in a chaise 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'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 cra'
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 his bridle-reins till he came down,
And then he convey’d them to a fine room;
With the finest of spirits they drank a fine toss,
And the son and the father drank both in one glass.