Oh the Earl of Aboyne to London has gone and all his nobles with him;
Sad was the heart of his lady fair because she could not go with him.

Oh the Earl of Aboyne to London has gone and all his nobles with him.
Better he had stayed at home or taken his lady with him.

And as she walked out upon the green among the gentlewomen,
Sad was the letter that came to her hand that her lord was wed in London.

And as she looked over the castle wall she saw two boys a-running.
“What news, what news, my bonny little boys, what news have you of London?”

“Oh, good news, good news, my lady gay, for the Earl of Aboyne is coming.
And ere he's within two miles of your walls you hear his bridles ringing.”

“Oh my grooms all, be well in call and have your stables shining.
Of corn and hay spare none this day since the Lord of Aboyne is coming.

“And my maids all, be well in call and have your floors a-shining.
And cover the stair with herbs sweet and fair and the floors with the finest linen.

“And deck my body in the finest array and my hood of the brightest linen.
And my apron shall be of the good silk cloth since the Lord of Aboyne is coming.”

So stately she stepped down the stair to see if he was coming,
And her gown it was of the good green silk trimmed with a red silk trimming.

She's called to Kate, her waiting maid, and Jean, her gentlewoman,
“Come fetch me a glass of the very best wine to drink his health that's coming.”

She's gone out to the close to greet her lord, says, “you're welcome for your coming.”
She's gone out to the close to greet her lord, says, “you're thrice welcome from London.”

“Oh, if I be half as welcome as you say, then kiss me for my coming.
For tomorrow should have been my wedding day if I'd stayed any longer in London.”

Oh she's turned her around with a look of disdain, says, “Woe's me for your coming,
Since tomorrow should have been your wedding day, then go kiss your whore in London.”

“My nobles all, come mount your steeds, I'm sorry for my coming.
And tonight we shall lie at the bonnie Bog o' Gight, and tomorrow take horses for London.”

“Oh, Tom, my man, run after him and beg him to take me with him.”
“Oh, I've asked him once and I'll ask him no more, it's never a mile you'll ride with him.”

And a year and a day she lived in woe and the doctors with her were dealing
Until at last her heart it broke and letters were sent to London.

When he saw the letters all edged in black, oh he's bound to grievous weeping.
“Oh, she is dead that I loved best and I had but a heart in keeping.”

There were fifteen of the noblest lords that London could provide him,
From their hose to their hat they were all dressed in black to mourn for bonny Peggy Irvine.

And the farther he rode the sorer he wept. “Would I had but her heart in keeping!
“Oh, sooner I had lost all the lands of Aboyne than my bonnie Peggy Irvine.”