Jeannie o' Bethelnie

When men sicken from love in folksongs, the women let them die. Here's a switch.

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

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 over Fife's lands