The Laird of Logie

Listen, good people, to my tale
Listen to what I tell to thee
The King has ta'en a poor prisoner
The wanton Laird o' Ochiltree

When news of it cam' tae the Queen
She sighed and said richt mournfully
O, wit will come o' Lady Margret
Wha bears sic love for Ochiltree

The Queen she's gane intil the King
And louted low doon til her knee
I never asked a boon but noo
O, spare the life o Ochiltree

Gin ye had asked for hoose or land
I'd freely gie them a' to thee
But all the gowd in fair Scotland
Winna buy the life o' Ochiltree

The Queen she tripped doon the stair
And doon she gaed richt mournfully
A' the gowd in fair Scotland
Winna buy the life o' Ochiltree

Lady Margret tore her yellow hair
And aye the saut tear blinded her e'e
I'll tak' a knife and end my life
And lie in the ground wi' Ochiltree

O na, na, na, then, said the Queen
O haud your tongue, this maunna be
I'll set ye on a better way
To free the Laird o' Ochiltree

The Queen she slippit up the stair
And up she gaed richt privilie
And she has stolen the prison keys
And lowsed the Laird o' Ochiltree

She's gi'en to him a purse o' gawd
And anither o' the white money
She's gi'en him twa pistols by his side
Says, Fire them baith when ye gang free

When he cam' tae the Queen's window
Whaten a joyfu' cry gi'ed he
He's fired the pistols and he's awa'
The wanton Laird o' Ochiltree

The King he rose up in his bed
O, wha is this has waukened me
I'll pledge my lands and a' my rents
It's the wanton Laird o' Ochiltree

Then ca' to me my jailers a'
Ca' them by thirty and by three
I swear that e'er the clock strikes twal'
That hangit high they a' shall be

O na, na, na, then cried the Queen
Na, na, na, that canna be
Gin ye maun tae hang them a'
Ye maun, my love, begin wi' me

The tane was shippit at the pier o' Leith
Lady Margret at the Queen's ferry
And she's gotten a faither tae her bairn
The wanton Laird o' Ochiltree.

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Music of Dalkeith
Copyright © 2001, Jack Campin