Memoir

LORD THOMAS STUART. With the circumstances which have given rise to this Ballad the Editor is unacquainted. THOMAS STUART was a Lord, A Lord of mickle land, He used to wear a coat of gold, But now his grave is green. Now he has wooed the young Countess, The Countess of Balquhin, An' given her for a morning gift Strathboggie and Aboyne. But woman's wit is aye willful, Alas! that ever it was sae, She longed to see the morning gift That her gude Lord to her gae. When steeds were saddled, an' weel bridled, An' ready for to ride, There came a pain on that gude Lord, His back, likewise his side. He said, "Ride on, my Lady fair, May goodness be your guide, For I am sick an' weary, that No Further can I ride." Now ben did come his father dear, Wearing a golden band, Saying, "Is there nae leech in Edinburgh Can cure my son from wrang?" "O, leech is come, an' leech is gane, Yet, father, I'm aye waur, There's not a leech in Edinbro' Can death from me debar. "But be a friend to my wife, father, Restore to her her own, Restore to her my morning gift, Strathboggie and Aboyne. "It had been gude for my wife, father, To me she'd born a son, He would have got my land an' rents, Where they lie out an' in. "It had been gude for my wife, father, To me she'd born an heir, He would have got my land and rents, Where they lie fine and fair." The steeds they strave into their stables, The boys couldn't get them bound, The hounds lay howling on the leech, 'Cause their master was behind. "I dreamed a dream since late yestreen, I wish it may be good, That our chamber was full of swine, An' our bed full of blood. "I saw a woman come from the west, Full sore wringing her hands, And aye she cried, 'Ohon, alas! My good Lord's broken bands." "As she came by my good Lord's bower, Saw mony black steeds and brown, 'I'm feared it be mony unco Lords, Havin' my love from town.' "As she came by my good Lord's bower, Saw mony black steeds an' grey, 'I'm feared its mony unco Lords, Havin' my love to the clay