Hi,

From: James Madison Carpenter Collection, JMC/1/4/L, p. 07509, this version has an archaic sounding phrase "huntin' in floonery fields," which makes it seem older. The first two stanzas have "handsome young man" while the rest have "jolly young man" which suggests a composite.

Lord Ronald- sung by Mrs Mary Stewart Robertson of 6 Auchreddie Road, New Deer, Aberdeenshire, Scotland. Learned from her mother.

1. "O faur hae ye been a' the day, Lord Ronald, my son?
O faur hae ye been a' the day, my handsome young man?"
"A huntin' in floonery fields, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the hert an' fain would lie doon."

2. "Fat got ye for supper, Lord Ronald, my son?
Fat got ye for supper, my handsome young man?"
"A dish o sma fishes, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the hert an' fain would lie doon."

3. "Fat color wis that fishes, Lord Ronald, my son?
Fat color wis that fishes, my jolly young man?"
"They were reid purple yellow wi lang spackled bellies, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the hert an' fain would lie doon."

4. "I doot ye are poisoned, Lord Ronald, my son?
I doot ye are poisoned, my jolly young man?"
"Oh yes, I am poisoned, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the hert an' fain would lie doon."

5. "What'll ye leave tee your father, Lord Ronald, my son?
What'll ye leave tee your brother, my jolly young man?"
"My houses an' lands, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the hert an' fain would lie doon."

6. "What'll ye leave tee your brother, Lord Ronald, my son?
What'll ye leave tee your brother, my jolly young man?"
"My bright gowd stars, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the hert an' fain would lie doon."

7 "What'll ye leave tee your sister, Lord Ronald, my son?
What'll ye leave tee your sister, my jolly young man?"
"Gowd earrings, gowd brooches, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm sick at the hert an' fain would lie doon."

8. "What'll ye leave tee your sweetheart, Lord Ronald, my son?
What'll ye leave tee your sweetheart, my jolly young man?"
"The block and the rope, that hung on the tree,
An' cold water an' poison that she's gied tee me, mother, mak my bed soon,
For I'm weary at the hert an' fain would lie doon."
* * * *

Richie