> Folk Music > Songs > Lady Keith’s Lament
When the King Comes O’er the Water / Lady Keith’s Lament
[
Roud V42891
; Ballad Index Hogg1027
; trad.]
Jock Tamson’s Bairns sang Lady Keith’s Lament in 1982 on their Topic album The Lasses Fashion. They noted:
This is an unusual Jacobite art-song which tells the story of an ageing noblewoman’s romantic obsession with Charles Stuart and the Jacobite cause. It was reputedly composed by the lady herself, who was Lady Mary Drummond, daughter of the Earl of Perth, or else by a sympathetic bard in her name. James Hogg included the song in his Jacobite Relics of 1819.
Ray Fisher sang Lady Keith’s Lament in 1991 on her Saydisc CD Traditional Songs of Scotland. She noted:
The aristocratic titled Lady in question has lost her status and possessions due to her Jacobite sympathies. In her reduced circumstances she shows her strength of character and unflinching determination to return to her former position when Bonnie Prince Charlie (Prince Charles Stewart) comes back from France. She also betrays a strong personal affection for the Prince. Resolved to learn this song after hearing the fine Scottish singer, Rod Paterson, sing it.
Carolyn Robson sang Lady Keith’s Lament on her 2003 album Dawn Chorus. She noted:
A powerful woman’s song full of bitterness and contempt. I have a particular leaning towards Jacobite songs and this is among the best.
Fiona Ross sang When the King Comes O’er the Water in 2017 on her Tradition Bearers album with Tony McManus, Clyde’s Water. She noted:
This song appears in Hogg’s Jacobite Relics (1819). Lady Keith, wife of William Keith, 8th (9th) Earl Marischal, was born Mary Drummond. Her father James Drummond, 4th Earl of Perth, was stripped of his titles for taking part in the Jacobite rising of 1715. It is said that when her two sons returned to Scotland, Mary allowed them no rest until they took up the Stuarts’ cause. The song expresses her indomitable support of the exiled family.
Lyrics
Ray Fisher sings Lady Keith’s Lament
I may sit in my wee croo hoose,
wi’ my rock and my reel tae toil fu’ dreary.
And I may think on the day that’s gane
and will sigh and sob till I am weary.
I ne’er could bear, I ne’er could bear
a foreign loon tae own and flatter.
But I will sing a rantin’ sang
that day oor King comes ower the water.
O I hae seen the guid auld day,
the day o’ pride and chieftain’s glory,
Whan Royal Stuart bare the sway
and we ne’er heard tell o’ Whig or Tory.
Tho’ lyart be my locks and grey,
auld age has crook’t me doon, what matter?
I’ll dance and sing ae ither day,
that day oor King comes ower the water.
O gin I live tae see the day
that I hae begged and begged frae heaven.
I’ll fling my rock and my reel away
and I’ll dance and sing fae morn till even.
For there is ane I wadna name,
wha comes the beengin’ byke tae scatter.
And I will put on my bridal goon
that day oor King comes ower the water.
A curse on dull and drawling Whig,
the whinin’, rantin’ low deceiver.
Wi’ heard sae black and look sae big,
and cantin’ tongue o’ cishmaclaver!
My faither was a guid Lord’s son,
my mither was an Earl’s daughter,
And I will be Lady Keith again
that day oor King comes ower the water.
Fiona Ross sings When the King Comes O’er the Water
I may sit in my wee croo hoose, wi my rock and my reel tae toil fu dreary
And I may think on the day that’s gane, and sigh and sab till I grow weary
I ne’er could brook, I ne’er could brook, a foreign loon tae own or flatter
But I will sing a rantin sang, the day oor King comes o’er the water
I hae seen the guid auld day, the day o pride and chieftain’s glory
When Royal Stuart bare the sway, and we ne’er heard tell o Whig or Tory
Tho lyart be my locks and gray, eild has crook’t me doon, what matter
I’ll dance and sing anither day, the day oor King comes o’er the water
Gin I live tae see the day that I hae begged and begged frae heaven
I’ll fling my rock and reel away, and I’ll dance and sing frae morn till even
For there is ane I winna name, that comes the beengin byke tae scatter
And I will put on my bridal goon, the day oor King comes o’er the water
A curse on dull and drawlin Whig, the whining, rantin low deceiver,
Wi hert sae black and look sae big, and cantin tongue o clishmaclaver
My faither was a guid Lord’s son, my mither was an Earl’s daughter
And I will be Lady Keith again, the day oor King comes o’er the water