4
O but my fortune is bad,
It sets not the Duke of Gordon’s daughter
To follow a soilder lad.
O hold your tongue, bonny Jean Gordon,
O hold thy tongue my lamb,
For once I was a noble captain,
Now for thy sake a single man.
O high was the hills and the mountains,
Cold was the frost and the snow ;
Lady Jean's shoes were all torn,
No farther could she go.
O if I were in the glens of Foudlen,
Where hunting I have been,
I could go to bonny castle Gordon,
Without either stockings or sheen.
O bold your tongue bonny Jeanie Gordon,
O hold your tongue my dow ;
I’ve but one half-crown in the world,
I'll buy hose and shoon to you.
When she came to bonny Castle Gordon,
And coming over the green,
The Porter cried out, with a loud voice,
Yonder comes our lady Jean.
You are welcome bonny Jeanie Gordon,
You are dearly welcome to me,
You are welcome, dear Jeanie Gordon,
But away with your Ogilvie.
Now over the seas went the Captain,
