Four excellent old songs/Bessy Bell & Mary Gray

BESSY BELL & MARY GRAY.

History of the Ballad.

There is a place called Lednoch about four computed miles from Perth; here it was where the celebrated Bessy Bell and Mary Gray lived. The father of the former was Laird of Kinvaid, in the neighbourhood of Lednoch; and that of the latter, was Laird of Lednoch. The two young ladies were extremely handsome, and maintained the strictest friendship and intimacy with one-another. When Miss Bell was on a visit to Miss Gray, the plague broke out, in 1666, to avoid which, they built themselves a bower about a mile west from Lednoch house, in a very retired and romantic situation. In this retreat they lived for some time, and were often visited by a young gentleman who, being enamoured with both of them, composed the following celebrated ballad in their praise. But alas! the mutual lover, at last having caught the infection, communicated it to the two ladies, who fell unhappy victims to its virulence-. Their bodies were afterwards conveyed to another part of Mr Gray's ground, called, Dornoch-haugh, and there buried. on the top of a little hill, about a mile and a half north of the house of Lednoch stood a Cross of great antiquity; at the foot of this Cross are three Wells, commonly called, the Bishops Wells, within a small distance of each other; where the Bishops of St. Andrew’s, Dunkeld, and Dunblane were wont to assemble, and drink to one-another, while each of them stood at the well within his own Diocess.

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O Bessy Bell and Mary Gray,
⁠they were twa bonny lasses;
The bigged a bow'r on yon burn-brae,
⁠and thack'd it o'er wi' rashes.

Fair Bessy Bell I loo’d yestreen,
⁠and thought I ne’er could alter,
But Mary Gray's twa pauky een,
⁠they gar my fancy faulter.

Now Bessy’s hair’s like a lint-tap,
⁠she smiles like a May-morning,
When Phoebus starts from Thetis' lap,
⁠the hills with rays adorning.

White is her neck, fast is her hand,
⁠her waist and feet’s fu’ genty,
With ilka grace she can command,
⁠her lips, O wow! they’re dainty.

And Mary’s locks they’re like a craw,
⁠her eyes like diamonds glances,
She’s ay so clean redd up, and bra’,
⁠she kills when e'er she dances.

Blyth as a kid, with wit at will,
⁠she blooming, tight, and tall is;
And guide her airs sae gracefu’ still,
⁠O Jove, she’s like thy Pallas.

Dear Bessy Bell, and Mary Gray,
⁠ye unco fair opress us;
Our fancies jee between you twa,
⁠ye are sic bonny lasses.