Jeannie o' Bethelnie
Traditional, arr. Calhoun, recorded on Telfer's Cows.
(Glenlogie) Child #238
Collated from versions sung by Ewan MacColl, John Strachan, John Adams and Dick Gaughan, plus the ones in Francis J. Child's English and Scottish Popular Ballads.
There were six and six horsemen, rode through Banchory fair,
And bonnie Glenlogie was the flower that was there.
There were nine and nine nobles sat at the King's hall,
Bonnie Glenlogie was the flower of them all.
And the young lady Jeannie, so good and so fair,
She fancied Glenlogie above all that were there.
She called on his footman as he passed her side,
"Oh, who is your master, and where does he bide?"
"They call him Glenlogie when he is from home,
He's of the noble Gordons, and his name is Lord John."
"Glenlogie, Glenlogie, I'll tell you my mind;
I've lain my love on you, and I trust you'll prove kind."
He turned him round lightly, as the Gordons do all,
Says, "I thank you, fair lady, but your fortune's too small."
She called on her maidens her bed for to make,
And the rings on her fingers, all from her to take.
"Glenlogie, Glenlogie, Glenlogie," she cried,
"If I can't get Glenlogie, for him I will die."
And it's in came her father, his face lined with care;
"What ails you, my Jeannie, that you're lying there?"
"It's his bonny body and his black rolling eye,
If I can't get Glenlogie, for him I will die."
"Oh hold your tongue, daughter, if he cares not for thee,
I'll lead ye to Drumfindlay, he has more gold than he."
"No hold your tongue, father, and let me alone,
If I can't get Glenlogie, then I will have none."
Her father's old chaplain was a man of great skill;
He wrote a broad letter, and he penned it well.
"Who's a match for ye, Logie, now since it is so,
There's a maid's love laid on ye, must she die in her woe?
"Who's a match for ye, Logie, so haughty and high;
And it's all for your sake a young woman should die?"
When Glenlogie got the letter, he was among men,
He gave a light laugh, says "oh, what does this mean?"
When he finished the letter, the tear dimmed his eye,
"What a pity for my sake young Jeannie should die.
"Go saddle my grey horse, go saddle the brown,
Jeannie Melville o' Bethelnie may be dead e'er I come."
Before they were saddled, the brown and the grey,
Glenlogie was running three miles upon his way.
When he came to Bethelnie, there was nobody there,
But one bonnie lassie, she was combin her hair.
He said, "Bonnie lassie, take me by the hand,
And lead me to the chamber Jeannie Melville lies in."
And pale and wan was she, when Glenlogie came in,
But red and rosy grew she, when she knew it was him.
"Oh, where's your pain, lady, does it lie in your head,
The pain ye lie under, does it lie in your side?"
"Oh no no Glenlogie, ye're far from the part,
For the pain I lie under is all in my heart."
"Then cheer up, my Jeannie, turn ye from the wall,
I've lain my love on ye, the flower of them all. "
Now Jeannie's got married, and her fortune down told
Bonnie Jeannie o' Bethelnie was scarce sixteen years old.
O Bethelnie, o Bethelnie, it shines where it stands,
And the heather bells round it shine o'er Fyvie's lands.