Haunted Tower o' Airlie- pupil (IL) 1918 Tunnicliffe

Haunted Tower o' Airlie- pupil (IL) 1918 Tunnicliffe

[From; The Haunted Tower o' Airlie by Julia Tunnicliffe; The English Journal, Vol. 7, No. 4 (Apr., 1918), pp. 270-271.

Coffin has questioned the legitamacy of this version which appears to be a recreation of Child 199.

R. Matteson 2015]


THE HAUNTED TOWER O' AIRLIE- The work of a high-school student born in Scotland, but long resident in this country.

Lady Airlie looked doon frae her high castle wa',
An' there saw the Lord o' Argyle,
Wi' belted plaid and glitt'ring blade,
An' a' his men sae vile.

Lord Airlie was huntin' far frae his hame,
There was naebody left at a' Airlie;
There was naebody left but the lady hersel,
So spake she to him very fairly.

"What seek ye o' Argyle," quo' she,
"An wherefore come sae fast,
My ain dear lord, awa' is he,
Been gone these three hours past."

"Come doon, come doon, Lady Airlie," he cried,
"Come doon an kiss me fair;
An' ye'll no come doon frae your high castle wa',
No a stane shall I leave in Airlie."

"I'll no come doon, ye false Argyle!"
An' an angry dame was she.
"Ye may set the castle in a low,
Nae kiss tae you I'll gie."

But O what a sicht for the Airlie to see,
When he came hame that nicht;
There was nae bonnie lady an' nae bonnie ha',
An his een was blin' wi' the sicht.

He swore by his dirk, he swore by his name,
That Argyle should be dead by the morrow;
That no traitor should live that had burned his hame,
That had brought to him woe and sorrow.

Then off to Glen Prosen the Airlie did gang,
An' met wi' the Campbell in clash,
An' sair was the fight an' sair was the fray,
Their braid swords like lichtnin' did flash.

O sad were the hames in the mountain and glen,
When Airlie marched back in the even!
Campbell awa' to his lands wi' his men,
The traitor was still 'mang the lee'vin.

The Airlie was an angry man,
An angry man was he.
His drummet lad made licht o' the fray.
"Noo ye can dee," quo' he.

He packed him in his empty drum
An cast him frae a tower.
"I'll haunt ye at your death" quo' he.
E'er he cast him ow'er.

An' noo he's heard wi' the beat o' a drum
In the tower frae which he was cast;
An' when the Airlie hears the soond,
He kens that day's his last.

JULIA TUNNICLIFFE
HIGH SCHOOL
MOLINE, ILLINOIS