Here's #1054 B from The Greig-Duncan Folk Song Collection, Volume 5 (Mercat Press, University of Aberdeen, 1995)

THE RIGS O' RYE

’Twas in the month of sweet July,
Before the sun did pierce the sky,
’Twas in atween twa rigs o’ rye,
I heard twa lovers talking.

He said, “My dear, I must away,
I’ve got no longer time to stay,
But I’ve a word or two to say,
If you’ve got time to hear them.

“Your father takes of you great care,
Your mother combs back your yellow hair
Your sister says you have no share
If you marry me a stranger.”

“Let father fret and mother frown,
And sister’s words I winna own,
Though they were all below the groun’
It’s awa wi’ you I’ll wander.”

He says, “Your tocher is but sma’,
And maybe it is nane ava,
And you’re nae a match for me ava,
Lay your love upon some other.”

The lassie’s courage began to fail,
Her rosy cheeks grew wan and pale,
And the tears came trickling down like hail
Like a heavy shower in summer.

He took a napkin o’ the cambric fine,
He wiped her cheeks and kissed her syne.
“Cheer up your heart, love, ye shall be mine,
I said it a’ to try you.”

This couple they are married noo,
And they have bairnies one or two,
And live in Brittany the winter through,
And in Montrose in summer.



Source: Mrs. Greig