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The Laird O' Logie


I will sing, if ye will hearken,
If ye will hearken unto me;
The king has ta'en a poor prisoner,
The wanton laird o' young Logie.

Young Logie's laid in Edinburgh chapel,
Carmichael's the keeper o' the key;
And May Margaret's lamenting sair,
A' for the love of Young Logie.

'Lament, lament na, May Margaret,
And of your weeping let me be,
For ye maun to the king himsell,
To seek the life of Young Logie.'

May Margaret has kilted her green cleiding,
And she has curl'd back her yellow hair;
'If I canna get Young Logie's life,
Farewell to Scotland for evermair!'

When she came before the king,
She knelit lowly on her knee;
'O what's the matter, May Margaret?
And what needs a' this courtesie?'

'A boon, a boon, my noble liege,
A boon, a boon, I beg o' thee!
And the first boon that I come to crave,
Is to grant me the life o' Young Logie.'

'O na, O na, May Margaret,
Forsooth, and so it mauna be;
For a' the gowd o' fair Scotland
Shall not save the life o' Young Logie.'

But she has stown the king's redding-kaim,
Likewise the queen her wedding knife;
And sent the tokens to Carmichael,
To cause Young Logie get his life.

She sent him a purse o' the red gowd,
Another o' the white monie;
She sent him a pistol for each hand,
And bade him shoot when he gat free.

When he came to the Tolbooth stair,
There he let his volley flee;
It made the king in his chamber start,
E'en in the bed where he might be.

'Gae out, gae out, my merrymen a',
And bid Carmichael come speak to me,
For I'll lay my life the pledge o' that,
That yon's the shot o' Young Logie.'

When Carmichael came before the king,
He fell low down upon his knee;
The very first word that the king spake,
Was 'Where's the laird of Young Logie?'

Carmichael turn'd him round about,
I wat the tear blinded his eye;
'There came a token frae your grace,
Has ta'en away the laird frae me.'

'Hast thou play'd me that, Carmichael?
And hast thou play'd me that?' quoth he;
'The morn the Justice Court's to stand,
And Logie's place ye maun supplie.'

Carmichael's awa to Margaret's bower,
Even as fast as he may dree;
'O if Young Logie be within,
Tell him to come and speak with me.'

May Margaret turn'd her round about,
I wat a loud laugh laughed she;
'The egg is chipp'd, the bird is flown,
Ye'll see nae mair of Young Logie.'

The tane is shipped at the pier of Leith,
The tother at the Queen's Ferrie;
And she's gotten a father to her bairn,
The wanton laird of Young Logie.
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Submitted by halel on July 15, 2020

2:33 min read

Frank Sidgwick

Frank Sidgwick himself wrote two novels, Love and Battles in 1909, a high-spirited story of healthy young people linked by somewhat complicated genealogical ties, and, a few years later, Treasure of Thule, a romance of Orkney. Frank Sidgwick (1879-1939) was professionally well-known from the Edwardian era as one half of Sidgwick and Jackson, the publishers. He was also known as a novelist, a humourist, a specialist in light verse, and a parodist. more…

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