BONNIE LASS OF FYVIE (PRETTY PEGGY)(learned in 1961 from Bob Coltman)
It was a troop on Irish dragoons,
come merchin' doon fron Fyvie-O,
And the ca'tain's fa'en in love wi' a lady lik' a dove,
an' her name, it was ca'd Pretty Peggy-O!
Now there's many a bonny lass in the house o' Auchterless,
there's many a bonny lass in the Gerrie-O!
There's many a bonny Jane in the streets o' Aberdeen,
but the fairest of all is in Fyvie-O!
Come trippin' doon the stair, Pretty Peggy, my dear,
come trippin' doon the stair, Pretty Peggy-O!
Come trippin' doon the stair, combin' back your yella hair,
come and bid farewell to your laddie-O!
It's braw, oh, it's braw, a ca'tain's lady tae be,
it's braw to be a ca'tain's lady-O,
It's braw to ride and rant, and to follow wi' the camp,
and to march when your ca'tain he is ready-O!
It's I'll gie ye ribbons, love, and I'll gie ye rings,
I'll gie ye necklaces on amber-O,
I'll gie ye petticoats wi' floonces tae the knee,
gin ye'll convey me doon tae my chamber-O!
Fit wou'd your minny think did she hear the guineas clink,
and the hautboys playin' all afore ye-O,
Little wad my minny think, though she heard the guineas clink,
and I were to go wi' a sojer-O!
A sojer's wife I ne'er shall be,
a sojer shall never enjoy me-O
I ne'er do intend to go to a foreign land,
and I ne'er will marry a sojer-O!
The colonel cries, Mount, boys, mount,
but the ca'tain he cries, Tarry-O!
O tarry for a while, just anither day or twa,
for tae see if this lassie, she will marry-O!
I'll drink nae mair o' your guid claret wine,
I'll drink nae mair o' your glasses-O!
For tomorrow is the day that we maun march away,
so bid adieu to your lasses-O!
'Twas early in the morn that we did march awa',
and oh, but the ca'tain he was sorry-O!
The drums they did beat o'er the bonny braes o' Gight (geet)
and the band played, The Bonnie Lewes o' Fyvie-O!
It's lang ere we were tae auld Meldrum toon,
we had our ca'tain to carry-O,
And lang ere we wan into bonny Aberdeen
we had our ca'tain to bury-O!
O green grow the birks on bonny Ythanside,
and low lie the lowlands i' Fyvie-O!
The ca'tain's name was Ned, and he died for a maid,
he died for the chambermaid on Fyvie-O!
(from miriam berg's folksong collection)