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ROB ROT. |
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An' he's awa to the Highland hills,
Whare her frien's they canna find her. »
* * * * *
" Rob Roy was my father ca'd,
Macgregor was his name, ladie; He led a band o' heroes bauld,
An' I am here the same, ladie. Be content, be content, 25
Be content to stay, ladie, For thou art my wedded wife
Until thy dying day, ladie.
" He was a hedge unto his frien's,
A heckle to his foes, ladie, 30
Every one that durst him wrang,
He took him by the nose, ladie. I'm as bold, I'm as bold,
I'm as bold, an more, ladie; He that daurs dispute my word, 33
Shall feel my guid claymore, ladie." |
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11.
From Maidment's North Cotmtrie Garland, p. 44.
Rob Roy from the Highlands cam,
Unto our Scottish border, And he has stow'n a lady fair,
To haud his house in order.
And when he cam, he surrounded the house, s Twenty men their arms did carry, - |
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