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In Bonny Scotland / India’s Burning Sands

[ Roud 2550 ; Laws N2 ; G/D 1:185 ; Henry H120 ; Ballad Index LN02 ; trad.]

Gale Huntington, Lani Herrmann, John Moulden: Sam Henry’s Songs of the People

Sara Cleveland of Brant Lake, New York, sang In Bonny Scotland to Sandy Paton in 1965. This recording was included in 1968 on her Folk-Legacy album Ballads & Songs of the Upper Hudson Valley. Kenneth S. Goldstein noted:

This ballad (Laws N2), better known as The Paisley Officer or India’s Burning Sands, probably started its life as the production of some hack writer in 19^th century Britain. The theme of the lady who disguises herself as a soldier (or sailor) in order to join her lover on the battlefield (or on board ship) was a popular one and it found its way on to numerous broadsides, many of which were passed into widespread oral circulation. For some unexplained reason, though published a number of times on English broadsides (W.R. Walker, Newcastle; Bebington, Manchester), this ballad has not been reported from tradition in England, but has proven popular in the northern United States and the Canadian Maritimes.

Sara indicates that this ballad, a favourite of both her mother and herself, is perfect for singing while doing housework, such as dusting or doing the dishes.

Lyrics

Sara Cleveland sings In Bonny Scotland

In bright and bonny Scotland
Where the bluebells they do grow,
There lived a £air young maiden
All in the valley low.
All day long a-herding sheep
Upon the banks o£ Clyde,
And though her lot and life was low,
She was the village pride.

Till an officer from Paisley town
Rode out to £owl one day,
And he wandered to that lonely spot
Where Mary’s cottage lay.
And many’s the time he came that way
And did he visit pay,
Until his fond heart and flattering tongue
Soon won her heart away.

At last he came to visit her,
And his face was dank with woe,
Saying, “Mary, dearest Mary,
Far from you I must go.
Our regiment received the route
And I to duty yield.
I must forget these lowland glens
For India’s burning fields.”

“O Henry, dearest Henry,
You know you’ve won my heart;
So take me as your wedded wife,
Far from you I can’t part.
Though highland glens and lowland fields
They are my heart’s desire,
It’s as your servant I will go,
Dressed up in man’s attire.”

He dressed her up in soldier’s clothes,
Cut off her golden hair.
And who would think a soldier’s coat
Could hide a form so rare?
He took her on to Paisley town,
And much they wondered there
At the beautiful and young recruit
That looked so sweet and fair.

The ladies all admired her
As they stood on parade,
But little they thought a soldier’s coat
Could conceal so fair a maid.
They soon crossed o’er the raging sea,
And o’er the burning sand.
No tongue could tell what Mary ’dured
Through India’s trackless land.

But when the day of trial came on
Upon the battlefield,
She saw the English troops give way
And to the Indians yield.
She saw her true love was cut down,
A sword had pierced his side.
But from his post he never flinched,
But where he stood he died.

She raised him from the bloody ground,
And in her arms did press;
And as she strove to close his wound,
A ball passed through her breast.
But, as this couple loved in life,
In death they loved the same;
And, as their fond heart’s blood ran cold,
It mixed in one red stream.