James Campbell
Booted and spurred and bridled rode he,
A plume in his saddle and a sword at his knee.
Back come his saddle, all bloody to see,
Back come the steed but never come he.
A-ridin' in the Highlands, steep was the way,
Ridin' in the Lowlands, hard by the Tay.
Out come his mother, with feet all so fair,
Out come his sweetheart, a'reivin' of her hair.
The meadow's all a'fallin' and the sheep is unshorn,
The house is a-leakin' and the baby's unborn,
But bonny James Campbell nowhere could be seen,
For back come the saddle but never come he.
Booted and spurred and bridled rode he,
A plume in his saddle and a sword at his knee.
Home come the saddle all bloody to see,
Home come the steed but never come he.
From Frank Profitt, Folk Legacy
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James Campbell
Booted and spurred and bridled rode he,
A plume in his saddle and a sword at his knee.
Back come his saddle, all bloody to see,
Back come the steed but never come he.
A-ridin' in the Highlands, steep was the way,
Ridin' in the Lowlands, hard by the Tay.
Out come his mother, with feet all so fair,
Out come his sweetheart, a'reivin' of her hair.
The meadow's all a'fallin' and the sheep is unshorn,
The house is a-leakin' and the baby's unborn,
But bonny James Campbell nowhere could be seen,
For back come the saddle but never come he.
Booted and spurred and bridled rode he,
A plume in his saddle and a sword at his knee.
Home come the saddle all bloody to see,
Home come the steed but never come he.
From Frank Profitt, Folk Legacy
Booted and spurred and bridled rode he,
A plume in his saddle and a sword at his knee.
Back come his saddle, all bloody to see,
Back come the steed but never come he.
A-ridin' in the Highlands, steep was the way,
Ridin' in the Lowlands, hard by the Tay.
Out come his mother, with feet all so fair,
Out come his sweetheart, a'reivin' of her hair.
The meadow's all a'fallin' and the sheep is unshorn,
The house is a-leakin' and the baby's unborn,
But bonny James Campbell nowhere could be seen,
For back come the saddle but never come he.
Booted and spurred and bridled rode he,
A plume in his saddle and a sword at his knee.
Home come the saddle all bloody to see,
Home come the steed but never come he.
From Frank Profitt, Folk Legacy