Sunday, July 19, 2009

Annan Waters

"Annan Water's wading deep,
And my love Annie's wondrous bonny;
I will keep my tryst to-night,
And win the heart o' lovely Annie."

He's loupen on his bonny grey,
He rade the right gate and the ready',
For a' the storm he wadna stay,
For seeking o' his bonny lady.

And he has ridden o'er field and fell,
Through muir and moss, and stones and mire;
His spurs o' steel were sair to bide,
And frae her four feet flew the fire.

"My bonny grey, noo play your part!
Gin ye be the steed that wins my dearie,
Wi' corn and hay ye'se be fed for aye,
And never spur sail mak' you wearie."

The grey was a mare, and a right gude mare:
But when she wan the Annan Water,
She couldna hae found the ford that night
Had a thousand merks been wadded at her.

"O boatman, boatman, put off your boat,
Put off your boat for gouden money!"
But for a' the goud in fair Scotland,
He dared na tak' him through to Annie.

"O I was sworn sae late yestreen,
Not by a single aith, but mony.
I'll cross the drumly stream to-night,
Or never could I face my honey."

The side was stey, and the bottom deep,
Frae bank to brae the water pouring;
The bonny grey mare she swat for fear,
For she heard the water-kelpy roaring.

He spurred her forth into the flood,
I wot she swam both strong and steady;
But the stream was broad, her strength did fail,
And he never saw his bonny lady.

O wae betide the frush saugh wand!
And wae betide the bush of brier!
That bent and brake into his hand,
When strength of man and horse did tire.

And wae betide ye, Annan Water!
This night ye are a drumly river;
But over thee we'll build a brig,
That ye nae mair true love may sever.


Translation:

Oh, Annan water's wondrous deep,
And my love, Annie's, wondrous bonny.
I'm loathed that she should wet her feet,
Because I love her best of any.
Go saddle to me my bonny grey mare,
Go saddle her soon and make her ready,
For I must cross that river tonight,
And all to see my bonny lady.

And woe betide you, Annan water,
At night you are a gloomy river,
And over you I'll build a bridge,
That never more true love may sever.

He has ridden over field and fell,
On moor and moss and many a mile,
His spurs of steel were sore to bite,
And from the mare's feet flew the fire.
The mare flew over moss and moor,
And when she'd won the Annan water,
She couldn't have ridden a furlong more,
Had a thousand whips been laid upon her.

Oh boatman, come put up your boat,
Put up your boat for gold and money.
For I must cross that stream tonight,
Or never more, I'll see my Annie.
The sides are steep, the waters deep,
From bank to brae the waters pouring,
And your bonny grey mare, she sweats for fear,
She stands to hear the waters roaring.

And he has tried to swim that stream,
And he swam on both strong and steady.
But the river was broad and strength did fail,
And he never saw his bonny lady.
Oh woe betide the willow wand,
And woe betide the bush of briar,
For it broke beneath the true lover's hand,
When strength did fail and limbs did tire.

And woe betide you, Annan water,
At night you are a gloomy river,
And over you I'll build a bridge,
That never more true love may sever.

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M is for Margaret, who was swept out to sea...