> Folk Music > Songs > Mirk, Mirk Is the Midnight Hour / Lord Gregory

Mirk, Mirk Is the Midnight Hour / Lord Gregory

[ Roud 22558 ; Mudcat 52272 ; Robert Burns]

Mae McKenna sang Robert Burns’ version of the Child ballad The Lass of Roch Royal, Mirk, Mirk Is the Midnight Hour in 1999 on volume 6 of The Complete Songs of Robert Burns .

Corrina Hewat sang Mirk, Mirk Is the Midnight Hour in 2004 on Bachué’s CD The Butterfly.

Karine Polwart sang Mirk, Mirk Is the Midnight Hour in 2007 on her CD Fairest Floo’er. A live recording from Cambridge Folk Festival 2008 was included in the same year on her festival EP A Wee Bit Extra.

Stanley Robertson sang Lord Gregory on his 2009 Elphinstone Institute anthology of “family gems and jewels from the Traveller tradition”, The College Boy. Thomas A. McKean noted:

This Lord Gregory is Robert Burns’ take on the popular ballad found all over the English-speaking world, The Lass of Roch Royal, or Annie of Lochryan (Roud 49). It was written for Thomson’s Scotish Airs (1798). Lord Gregory was, according to James Dick, “one of the few historical ballads which made an impression on Burns” (Notes on Scottish Songs by Robert Burns (Hatboro, PA: Folklore Associates, 1962), p. 398).

Sam Lee learned Lord Gregory from Stanley Robertson and sang it in 2015 on his Nest Collective album The Fade in Time.

Lyrics

Mae McKenna sings Mirk, Mirk Is This Midnight Hour

Oh mirk, mirk is this midnight hour,
And loud the tempest’s roar;
A waefu’ wanderer seeks thy tower
Lord Gregory, ope thy door!

An exile frae her faither’s ha’,
And a’ for loving thee;
At least some pity on me shaw,
If love it may na be.

Lord Gregory, mind’st thou not the grove
By bonnie Irwine-side,
Where first I own’d that virgin-love
I lang, lang had denied.

How aften didst thou pledge and vow,
Thou wad for aye be mine;
And my fond heart, itsel’ sae true,
It ne’er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy heart, Lord Gregory,
And flinty is thy breast.
Thou dar of heaven that flashest by,
Oh wilt thou give me rest!

Ye mustering thunders from above
Your willing victim see!
But spare, and pardon my fause love
His wrangs to Heaven and me!

Stanley Robertson sings Lord Gregory

I always thought her name’s Annie of Lochy Ryan, but ma mither aye thought that she wis Annie o Lochranza, on the Isle of Arran. There’s a castle at Lochranza and she thinks she wis a Lady and [that] Lord Gregory bade just across fae it. And he sojourned wi her a long time. And then, they’d fell in love. But she’d waited a lang time afore she’d onything to dee wi him. And then, they mak love and she fa’s pregnant. It was a great disgrace for a lady to be expecting a babe, ye ken? And so while she’s pregnant, she speaks till her wee bairn an she says, “Fa will gie ye breid for breid and fa will gie ye cheese?” And then she tells it, “Ye’ve got a father that disna ken ye’re born. But, fin ye’re born I’ll tak ye ower tae see him.” And the sad part is, fin she dis get oot on this stormy night—I think it wis the month o November—bad, bad night, and that could be quite a rough crossing. And she gets tae the ither side and aa the lights o the castle wis on. And she goes wi her wee bairnie; she goes to the gates o the castle and asks for admittance. But Lord Gregory comes to the door and tells her she’s nae wanted to gae awa hame. She’s no business bein there. But it wis actually his mither, his coorse mither, this mother’s malison, and she dis the same. So the lassie goes back on the boat and there’s nae mariner cause the mariners are awa. So she goes oot to sea in this wee boat. And of course the boat sinks and Annie’s body floats to the shore and the bairnie’s body floats into the sea. The next morning Lord Gregory gets up, and a shame, the preparation wis aa for Annie’s weddin. The next day he wis gan ower to collect her. So it’s very sad. He finds her body and he commits suicide at the end. So it’s very, very sad because o a coorse mither. It’s very, very moving. And that’s just a shortened version, I’ve heard folk singing a lang version but the lang version goes on [forever].

For I will build a bonnie boat
And I will sail the sea
And I will go tae Lord Gregory
Since he cannae come tae me.
Oh, row ye boat, ye mariners
An bring me safe to the land
For I am cauld and tired, my love
And the saut sea aches my banes.

Mirk, oh mirk is the midnight hour
An wild the winds they roar
A woeful wanderer seeks thy tower
Lord Gregory, open thy door
An exile frae her father’s ha
Aa for the love o thee
At least some pity on me show
If love it cannae be.

Remember ye, Lord Gregory
By Irvine’s bonnie side
When ye first taen my virgin love
That lang I hae denied
’Twas then that thou did pledge an vow
That thou wid aye be mine
And mine ane hairt itsel sae true
It ne’er mistrusted thine.

Hard is thy hairt, Lord Gregory
An flinty is thy breast
Thou stars of heaven look doon on me
Look doon and grant me rest
Ye must turn angels from above
Yer willing victim see
But spare an pardon my false love
His wrangs tae heaven an me.