The Rigs of Rye

It was in the month of sweet July, before the sun shone in the sky
Down between two rigs of rye, I heard two lovers talking

He said 'Lassie lassie, I must go away, and so no longer with you can I stay
But I've a word or two to say, if you've a mind for to tarry,

Of you, your father he takes good care, and your mother too, she combs down your yellow hair
And your sisters too say they'll get no share, if you follow me love, a stranger

And lassie, lassie, your fortune it is but small, and perhaps it's true that you've got none at all,
And I'm not a match love for you at all, so go and give your love to another'.

'Oh my father can fret and my mother can frown and my sisters too I do disown
and if they were dead and below the ground I'd still follow you love, you're no stranger'

But this lassie's courage began to fade and her rosy cheeks they soon grew wan and pale
And the tears came trickling down like hail or the heavy shower in summer.

And he's taken her kerchief of linen so fine, and he's kissed her lips and then he's dried her eyes
Saying 'Weep no more love for you shall be mine and all that I said was to try you'

And this laddie was of courage bold, a gallant chief, just 19 years old
And he's made the hills and the valleys to roam and the young bonny lass has gone with him

And this couple they are married now, and they have babies one and two
And they live in Breckin the winter through, and in Montrose in the summer.