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C.D. Warner, et al., comp.
The Library of the World’s Best Literature. An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Scottish Minstrelsy


THREESCORE o’ nobles rade up the king’s ha’,

But bonnie Glenlogie’s the flower of them a’,

Wi’ his milk-white steed and his bonny black e’e:

“Glenlogie, dear mither, Glenlogie for me!”

“O haud your tongue, daughter, ye’ll get better than he.”—

“O say nae sae, mither, for that canna be:

Though Doumlie is richer and greater than he,

Yet if I maun tak him, I’ll certainly dee.—

“Where will I get a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon,

Will gae to Glenlogie, and come again soon?”—

“O here am I a bonnie boy, to win hose and shoon,

Will gae to Glenlogie and come again soon.”

When he gaed to Glenlogie, ’twas “wash and go dine”;

’Twas “wash ye, my pretty boy, wash and go dine.”—

“O ’twas ne’er my father’s fashion, and it ne’er shall be mine,

To gar a lady’s hasty errand wait till I dine;

“But there is, Glenlogie, a letter for thee.”

The first line that he read, a low smile gave he;

The next line that he read, the tear blindit his e’e;

But the last line that he read, he gart the table flee.

“Gar saddle the black horse, gar saddle the brown;

Gar saddle the swiftest steed e’er rade frae a town:”

But lang ere the horse was drawn and brought to the green,

O bonnie Glenlogie was twa mile his lane.

When he came to Glenfeldy’s door, little mirth was there;

Bonnie Jean’s mother was tearing her hair:

“Ye’re welcome, Glenlogie, ye’re welcome,” said she,

“Ye’re welcome, Glenlogie, your Jeanie to see.”

Pale and wan was she when Glenlogie gaed ben,

But red and rosy grew she whene’er he sat down;

She turned awa’ her head, but the smile was in her e’e:

“O binna feard, mither, I’ll maybe no dee.”