Traditional Songs

BONNY DUNDEE

O HAVE I burnt, or have I slain?
Or have I duin aucht injury?
I've gotten a bonny young lassie wi bairn,
The bailie's dochter o bonny Dundee.
Bonny Dundee, an bonny Dundas,
Where shall I see sae bonny a lass?
Open your ports, an let me gang free,
I maun stey nae langer in bonny Dundee.

GALA-WATTER

BRAW, braw lads o Gala-watter,
O braw lads o Gala-watter,
I'll kilt my coats ablo my knee,
An follow my love throu the watter.
Sae fair her hair, sae brent her brou,
Sae bonny blue her een, my dearie,
Sae white her teeth, sae sweet her mou,
I aften kiss her till I'm wearie.
Ower yon bank, an ower yon brae,
Ower yon moss amang the heather,
I'll kilt my coats abuin my knee,
An follow my love throu the watter.
Doun amang the broom, the broom,
Doun amang the broom, my dearie;
The lassie lost her silken snood,
That garred her greet till she wis wearie.

GAE TO THE KYE WI ME, JOHNY

GAE to the kye wi me, JOHNY,
Gae to the kye wi me;
Gae to the kye wi me, JOHNY,
An I'll be merry wi thee.
An wis she no wordy o kisses,
An wis she no wordy o three,
An wis she no wordy o kisses,
That gaed to the kye wi me?
Gae to the kye, &c.
I have a hoose to big,
An anither that's like to fa',
I have a lassie wi bairn,
That grieves me warst o a'.
Gae to the kye, &c.
If that she be nou wi bairn,
As I trew weel she be,
I have an auld wife to my mither,
Will dandle it on her knee.
Gae to the kye, &c.

BROSE AN BUTTER

GIE my love brose, brose,
Gie my love brose an butter,
Gie my love brose, brose,
Yestreen he wanted his supper.
JENNY sits up in the laft,
JOCKY wad fain hae been at her,
There cam a wind oot o the wast,
Made a' the windaes to clatter.
Gie my love, &c.
A goose is nae guid meat,
A hen is boss within,
In a pie there's muckle deceit,
A puddin it is a guid thing.
Gie my love, &c.

JENNY'S BAWBEE

AN a' that e'er my JENNY haed,
My JENNY haed, my JENNY haed;
A' that e'er my JENNY haed,
Was ae bawbee.
There's your plack, an my plack,
An your plack, an my plack,
An my plack an your plack,
An JENNY'S bawbee.
An a' that e'er, &c.
We'll pit it a' in the pint-stoup,
The pint-stoup, the pint-stoup,
We'll pit it in the pint-stoup,
An birl't a' three.
An a' that e'er, &c.

COCK UP YOUR BEAVER

WHEN first my dear JOHNY cam to this toun,
He haed a blue bunnet, it wanted the croun;
But nou he haes gotten a hat an a feather,
Hey, my JOHNY lad, cock up your beaver.
Cock up your beaver, cock up your beaver,
Hey, my JOHNY lad, cock up your beaver;
Cock up your beaver, an cock it na wrang,
We'll a' to England or it be lang.

JOHN, COME KISS ME NOU

JOHN, come kiss me nou, nou, nou,
O JOHN come kiss me nou,
JOHN come kiss me by an by,
An mak nae mair adae.
Some will coort an compliment,
An mak a great adae,
Some will mak o their guidman,
An sae will I o you.
JOHN, come kiss, &c.

WHEN SHE CAM BEN SHE BOBBIT

WHEN she cam ben she bobbit,
An when she cam ben she bobbit.
An when she cam ben she kist COCKPEN,
An then deny'd that she did it.
An wisna COCKPEN richt saucy,
An wisna COCKPEN richt saucy?
He lenned his lady to gentlemen,
An he kist the collier lassie.
An wisna COCKPEN richt able,
An wisna COCKPEN richt able?
He left his lady wi gentlemen,
An he kist the lass in the stable.
O are you wi bairn, my chicken?
O are you wi bairn, my chicken?
O if I'm no, I hope to be,
E'er the green leaves be shaken.

WHISTLE OWER THE LAVE O'T

MY mither sent me to the well,
She haed better gane hersel,
I got the thing I daurna tell,
Whistle ower the lave o't.
My mither sent me to the sea,
For to gaither mussels three;
A sailor lad fell in wi me,
Whistle ower the lave o't.

THE GREY COCK

O SAW ye my faither, or saw ye my mither,
Or saw ye my true love JOHN?
I saw na your faither, I saw na your mither,
But I saw your true love JOHN.
It's nou ten at nicht, an the stars gies nae licht:
An the bells they ring ding, dong,
He's met wi some delay, that causes him to stay;
But he will be here or lang.
The surly auld carle did naething but snarl,
An JOHNNY'S face it grew reid;
Yet tho he aften sighed, he ne'er a wird replied,
Till a' wis asleep in bed.
Up JOHNY rase, an to the door he gaes,
An gently tirled the peen;
The lassie takkin tent, unto the door she went,
An she opened an let him in.
An are ye come at last, an dae I haud ye fast?
An is my JOHNY true?
I have nae time to tell, but sae lang's I like mysel,
Sae lang sall I loe you.
Flee, flee up, my bonny grey cock,
An craw whan it is day;
Your neck shall be like the bonny beaten gowd,
An your wings o the siller grey.
The cock pruved fause, an untrue he wis,
For he crew an oor ower suin;
The lassie thocht it day when she sent her love away,
An it wis but a blink o the muin.

WHEN I WAS A WEE THING

Tune, JOHN ANDERSON my Jo.

WHEN I wis a wee thing,
An juist like an elf;
A' the meat that e'er I gat,
I laid upon the shelf.
The rottens an the mice
They fell into a strife,
They wadnae let my meat alane
Till I gat a wife.
An when I gat a wife,
She wadnae bide therein,
Till I gat a hurl-barrow,
To hurl her oot an in.
The hurl-barrow brake,
My wife she gat a fa';
An the foul fa' the hurl-barrow,
Cripple wife an a'.
She wadnae eat nae bacon,
She wadnae eat nae beef;
She wadnae eat nae lang-kail,
For fylin o her teeth:
But she wad eat the bonnie bird,
That sits upon the tree:
Gang doun the burn, DAVIE, love,
An I sall follow thee.

WALY FOU FA' THE CAT

AS I cam doun bonny Tweed-side,
I heard an I wistna what;
I heard ae wife say to anither,
O waly fou fa' the cat!
O waly fou fa' the cat!
For she haes bred muckle wanaese;
She haes opened the amry door,
An haes eaten up a' oor bit cheese.
She haes eaten up a' the bit cheese;
O the bannocks she's no left a mote;
She haes dung the hen aff her eggs;
An she's drouned in the sowin-boat.
O waly fou fa' the cat!
I kend she wad never dae grace;
She haes pished i' the backet o saut;
An haes dung the bit fish aff the brace.
She haes dung the bit fish aff the brace;
An it's fa'en i' the maister-can;
An nou it haes sic a stink,
It'll pizen the silly guid man.

DAINTY DAVIE

O LEEZE me on your curly pow,
Dainty DAVIE, dainty DAVIE;
Leeze me on your curly pow,
Mine ain dainty DAVIE.
It wis in an throu the windae broads,
An a' the tirlie wirlies o'd;
The sweetest kiss that e'er I got,
Wis frae my dainty DAVIE.
O leeze me on your curly pow, &c.
It wis doun amang my daddy's pease,
An inablo the cherry-trees;
O there he kist me as he pleased,
For he wis mine ain dear DAVIE.
O leeze me on your curly pow, &c.
When he wis chased bi a dragoon,
Into my bed he wis laid doun;
I thocht him wordy o his room,
An he's aye my dainty DAVIE.
O leeze me on your curly pow, &c.

HEY HOW JOHNY LAD

HEY how JOHNY lad, ye're no sae kind's ye sud hae been,
Hey how JOHNY lad, ye're no sae kind's ye sud hae been;
Sae weel's ye micht hae touzled me, an sweetly pree'd my mou bedeen;
Hey how JOHNY lad, ye're no sae kind's ye sud hae been.
My faither he wis at the pleuch, my mither she wis at the mill,
My billie he wis at the moss, an no ane near oor sport to spill;
The feint a body wis therein, ye needna fleyed for bein seen;
Hey how JOHNY lad, ye're no sae kind's ye sud hae been.
But I maun hae anither joe, thats love gangs never oot o mind,
An winna let the maument pass, when to a lass he can be kind;
Then gang yer wa's to Blinkin BESS, nae mair for JOHNY sal she green:
Hey how JOHNY lad, ye're no sae kind's ye sud hae been.

AS I GAED TO THE WELL AT E'EN

AS I gaed to the well at e'en,
As ony honest auld wumman will dae,
The carle then he follaed me,
As auld carles will dae.
He wooed me, an loe'd me,
A wally hou he wooed me!
But yet I winna tell to you,
Hou the carle wooed me.
As I sat at my wheel at e'en,
As ony honest auld wumman shoud dae,
The carle he cam in to me,
As auld carles will dae.
He wooed me, an loe'd me, &c.
As I gaed to my bed at e'en,
As ony ither honest auld wumman wad dae,
The carle then he cam to me,
As auld carles will dae.
He wooed me, an loe'd me, &c.

LUMPS O PUDDIN

MY daddy he stealed the minister's cou,
An a' we weans gat puddins anew;
The dirt crap oot, as the meat gaed in,
An wow sic puddins as we gat then!
Sic lumps o puddins, sic dads o breid,
They stack in my throat, an maist wis my deid.
As I gaed by the minister's yaird,
I spied the minister kissin his maid:
Gin ye winna believe, come here an see
Sic a braw new coat the minister gied me.
Sic lumps o puddins, &c.

BIRKS O AIBERGELDY

BONNIE lassie, will ye gae,
Will ye gae, will ye gae,
Bonnie lassie, will ye gae
To the birks o Aibergeldy?
Ye shall get a goun o silk,
A goun o silk, a goun o silk,
Ye shall get a goun o silk,
An coat o calimancoe.
Na, kind Sir, I daurna gang,
I daurna gang, I daurna gang,
Na, kind Sir, I daurna gang,
My minnie she'll be angry.
Sair, sair wad she flyte,
Wad she flyte, wad she flyte,
Sair, sair wad the flyte,
An sair wad she ban me.
KEEP the country, bonny lassie,
Keep the country, keep the country,
Keep the country, bonny lassie;
Lads will a' gie gowd for ye:
Gowd for ye, bonny lassie,
Gowd for ye, gowd for ye,
Keep the country, bonny lassie,
Lads will a' gie gowd for ye.

FARE YE WEEL, MY AULD WIFE

AN fare ye weel, my auld wife,
Sing bum, bibbery, bum:
Fare ye weel, my auld wife,
Sing bum, bum, bum,
Fare ye weel, my auld wife,
The steerer up o strunt an strife;
The maut's abuin the meal the nicht,
Wi some, some, some.
An fare ye weel, my pyke-staff,
Sing bum, bibbery, bum;
Fare ye weel, my pike-staff,
Sing, bum, bum, bum:
Fare ye weel, my pike-staff,
Wi you nae mair my wife I'll baff;
The maut's abuin the meal the nicht
Wi some, some, some.

WILL YE GAE TO FLANDERS

WILL ye gae to Flanders, my MALLY-O?
Will ye gae to Flanders, my bonnie MALLY-O?
There we'll get wine an brandy,
An sack an sugar-candy;
Will ye gae to Flanders, my MALLY-O?
Will ye gae to Flanders, my MALLY-O?
An see the chief commanders, my MALLY-O?
You'll see the bullits flee,
An the sodgers hou they dee,
An the ladies loodly cry, my MALLY-O!

TIBBY FOWLER O THE GLEN

TIBBY FOWLER o the glen,
There's ower mony wooin at her;
She haes lovers nine or ten,
There's ower mony wooin at her:
Wooin at her, kissin at her,
Clappin at her, canna get her;
Shame fa' her filthy snoot,
There's ower mony wooin at her.

KIRK WAD LET ME BE

I AM a puir silly auld man,
An hirplin ower a tree;
Yet fain, fain kiss wad I,
Gin the kirk wad let me be.
Gin a' my duds wis aff,
An a' hale claes on,
O I could kiss a young lass,
As weel as ony man.

BLINK OWER THE BURN, SWEET BETTY

IN simmer I mawed my meedaes,
In hervest I shuir my corn,
In winter I mairied a weedae,
I wish I wis free the morn.
Blink ower the burn, sweet BETTY,
Blink ower the burn to me:
O it is a thoosand peeties
But I wis a weedae for thee.

GREEN GROWES THE RASHES

GREEN growes the rashes-O,
Green growes the rashes-O:
The feather-bed is no sae saft
As a bed amang the rashes-O.
We're a' dry wi drinkin o't,
We're a' dry wi drinkin o't;
The parson kissed the fiddler's wife,
An he coudna preach for thinkin o't.
Green growes, &c.
The down-bed, the feather-bed,
The bed amang the rashes-O;
Yet a' the beds is no sae saft
As the bellies o the lassies-O.

GUIDNICHT AN JOY BE WI YOU A'

O THIS is my depairtin time!
For here nae langer maun I stay:
There's no a freend or fae o mine
But wishes that I were away.
What I hae duin for lack o wit,
I never, never can reca'!
I hope you're a' my freends as yet:
Guidnicht an joy be wi you a'.

I HAE LAYEN THREE HERRIN IN SAUT

I HAE layen three herrin in saut:
Bonnie lass, gin ye'll tak me, tell me nou:
An I hae growen three pickles o maut;
An I canna come ilka day to woo;
To woo, to woo, to lilt an to woo:
An I canna come ilka day to woo.
I hae a wee cauf that wad fain be a cou:
Bonnie lassie, gin ye'll tak me, tell me nou:
I hae a wee gryce that wad fain be a sou:
An I canna come ilka day to woo;
To woo, to woo, to lilt an to woo;
An I canna come ilka day to woo.

KISSED THE STREEN

On the late Duke o Argyle.
O AS I wis kissed yestreen!
O as I wis kissed yestreen!
I'll never forget till the day that I dee,
Sae mony braw kisses his Grace gae me.
My faither wis sleepin, my mither wis oot,
An I wis my lane, an in cam the Duke:
I'll never forget till the day that I dee,
Sae mony braw kisses his Grace gae me.
Kissed the streen, kissed the streen,
Up the Gallowgate, doun the Green:
I'll never forget till the day that I dee,
Sae mony braw kisses his Grace gae me.

A TOUCH CAN DAE NAE ILL

WHEN I gaed to the mill my lane,
For to grund my maut,
The miller-laddie kissed me;
I thocht it wisna faut.
What tho the laddie kissed me,
When I wis at the mill!
A kiss is but a touch;
An a touch can dae nae ill.
O I loe the miller-laddie!
An my laddie loes me;
He haes sic a blythe leuk,
An a bonnie blinkin ee.
What tho the laddie kissed me,
When I wis at the mill!
A kiss is but a touch;
An a touch can dae nae ill.

DONALD COUPER

DONALD COUPER an his man
They've gane to the fair;
They've gane to coort a bonny lass,
But fint a man wis there:
But he haes gotten an auld wife,
An she's come hirplin hame;
An she's fa'n ower the buffet-stool,
An brake her rumple-bane.
Sing, Hey DONALD, how DONALD,
Hey DONALD COUPER;
He's gane awa to coort a wife,
An he's come hame ithoot her.

GREEN SLEEVES

Tune, Green Sleeves.
AS I walked bi mysel, I said to mysel,
An mysel said again to me,
Leuk weel to thysel, tak care o thysel,
For naebody cares for thee.
Then I answered to mysel, an said to mysel,
Wi the sel-same repartee,
Leuk weel to thysel, or no to thysel,
It's the sel-same thing to me.

MY WIFE'S A WANTON WEE THING

MY wife's a wanton wee thing,
My wife's a wanton wee thing,
My wife's a wanton wee thing;
She'll never be guided bi me.
She played the loon e'er she wis mairied,
She played the loon e'er she wis mairied,
She played the loon e'er she wis mairied;
She'll do't again e'er she dee.

SYMON BRODIE

SYMON BRODIE haed a cou:
The cou wis lost, an he coudna finnd her;
When he haed duin what man coud dae,
The cou cam hame, an the tail behinnd her.
Honest, auld SYMON BRODIE,
Stupid, auld, doited bodie;
I'll awa to the North Countrie,
An see my ain dear SYMON BRODIE.
SYMON BRODIE haed a wife,
An wow but she wis braw an bonnie;
She teuk the dishclout aff the bink,
An preened it to her cockernonie.
Honest, auld SYMON BRODIE, &c.

THE DAINTY DOUNBY

THERE'S a fermer near hard by,
Sent oot his dochter to keep the kye,
Sent oot his dochter to keep the kye,
In the green o the Dainty Dounby.
This lassie bein o a noble mind,
She went to the gairden to pou a pickle thyme,
She went to the gairden to pou a pickle thyme,
In the garden o the Dainty Dounby.
Little did she ken that the laird wis at hame,
Little did she ken that the laird wis at hame,
Little did she ken that the laird wis at hame,
The laird o the Dainty Dounby.
He haes taen her bi the milk-white hand,
He haes taen her bi the gress-green sleeve,
He haes made her to be at his command,
In the green o the Dainty Dounby.
O gae hame! gae hame, an tell your faither this,
Gae hame, gae hame, an tell your faither this,
Gae hame, gae hame, an tell your faither this,
What ye've gotten in the Dainty Dounby.
Her faither is to this young laird gone,
For to pey some rents that he wis awin,
For to pey some rents that he wis awin,
To the Laird o the Dainty Dounby.
O how is your dochter MARG'RET! he said,
O how is your dochter MARG'RET! he said,
O how is your dochter MARG'RET, he said,
Since she wis in the Dainty Dounby?
Gae gar her come an speak to me,
Gae gar her come an speak to me,
Gae gar her come richt speedily,
To me in the Dainty Dounby.
When this lassie afore this young laird cam,
Her lover baith grew pale an wan:
O MARG'RET, MARG'RET! you've lain wi a man,
Since you wis in the Dainty Dounby.
O kind Sir! you mey weel understand,
Since you made me to be at your command,
You made me to be at your command;
An wAe to your Dainty Dounby!
O MARG'RET, MARG'RET! gif I be the man,
If I be the man that haes duin ye the wrang,
I shall be the man that will raise you again,
Since you wis in the Dainty Dounby.
Then he haes ca'd upon his vassals a',
He haes ca'd on them baith great an sma';
Then he haes made her there, Afore them a',
The Lady o the Dainty Dounby.

RECKLE MAHUDIE

MITHER.
WHAUR will we get a wife to you?
My auld son RECKLE MAHUDIE.
SON.
Wha but MAGGIE ayont the burn,
She'll mak a wife richt gudie.
MITHER.
I fear she'll be but a sober wife,
My auld son RECKLE MAHUDIE.
SON.
I believe you'd hae me seek a king's dochter,
But foul fa' me if I dudie.
MITHER.
O what'll you hae to your wadden feast?
My auld son RECKLE MAHUDIE.
SON.
A pint o brose an a guid saut herrin,
It'll mak a feast richt gudie.
MITHER.
I fear it'll be but a sober feast,
My auld son RECKLE MAHUDIE.
SON.
I believe you'd hae me hae baith sodden an roast,
But foul fa' me if I dudie.
MITHER.
O wha'll you hae at your wadden,
My auld son RECKLE MAHUDIE?
SON.
Wha but MAGGIE an mysel,
It'll mak a wadden richt gudie.
MITHER.
I fear it'll be but a sober wadden,
My auld son RECKLE MAHUDIE.
SON.
I believe you'd hae me hae an host o folk,
But foul fa' me gin I dudie.

THE PRETTIEST LAIRD IN A' THE WEST

THE prettiest laird in a' the west,
An that wis BONNYMUIN;
An TEUKSTON wis courageous,
Cried for a wanton quean:
An BOYSAC he wis tender,
An michtna bide nae wier;
An yet he cam courageously,
Ithoot or dreid or fear.
O BOYSAC gin ye dee,
O BOYSAC gin ye dee,
O I'se pit on your windin sheet,
Fine Hollan it shall be.
I'd raither hae Reid-Castle
An a reid rose in his hand,
Afore I'd hae ye, BOYSAC,
Wi thretty ploos o land.
O BOYSAC, gin ye dee,
O BOYSAC, gin ye dee,
O I'se pit on your windin sheet,
Fine Hollan it shall be.

TEN THOOSAND TIMES GUID NICHT

AN there she's leaned her back to a thorn,
Oh, an alace-a-day! Oh, an alace-a-day!
An there she haes her baby born,
Ten thoosand times guid nicht, an be wi thee.
She haes howked a grave ayont the sun,
Oh, an alace-a-day! Oh, an alace-a-day!
An there she haes buried the sweet babe in,
Ten thoosand times guid nicht, an be wi thee.
An she's gane back to her faither's ha',
Oh, an alace-a-day! Oh, an alace-a-day!
She's coonted the lealest maid o them a',
Ten thoosand times guid nicht an be wi thee.
* * * * * * * *
O leukna sae sweet, my bonny babe,
Oh, an alace-a-day! Oh, an alace-a-day!
Gin ye smile sae ye'll smile me deid;
Ten thoosand times guid nicht an be wi thee.

APRON DEARY

IT wis early in the mornin, a mornin o Mey,
A sodger an a lassie wis waukin astray;
Close doun in yon meedae, yon meedae brou,
I heard the lass cry, my apron nou,
My apron, deary, my apron nou,
My belly bears up my apron nou,
But I bein a young thing, wis easy to woo,
Which maks me cry oot, My apron nou.
O haed I taen coonsel o faither or mither,
Or haed I advised wi sister or brither,
But I bein a young thing, an easy to woo,
It maks me cry oot, My apron nou,
My apron, deary, &c.
Your apron, deary, I must confess,
Seems something the shorter, tho naething the less;
Then haed your tongue, deary, an I will prove true,
An nae mair cry oot, Your apron nou.
Your apron, deary, &c.----Your belly, &c.
Then haed your tongue, &c.

AULD ROB MORRIS

MITHER.
AULD ROB MORRIS that wins in yon glen,
He's the king o guid fallows, an wale o auld men,
Haes fowerscore o black sheep, an fowerscore too;
Auld ROB MORRIS is the man ye maun lue.
DOCHTER.
Haed your tongue, mither, an let that abee,
For his eild an my eild can never agree:
They'll never agree, an that will be seen;
For he is fowerscore, an I'm but fifteen.
MITHER.
Haed your tongue, dochter, an lay by your pride,
For he'se be the bridegroom, an ye'se be the bride:
He shall lie bi your side, an kiss ye too;
Auld ROB MORRIS is the man ye maun lue.
DOCHTER.
Auld ROB MORRIS I ken him fou weel,
His erse sticks oot like ony peat-creel,
He's oot-shinned, in-knee'd, an ringle-ee'd too;
Auld ROB MORRIS is the man I'll ne'er lue.
MITHER.
Tho auld ROB MORRIS be an elderly man,
Yet his auld brass it will buy a new pan;
Then, dochter, ye shoudna be sae ill to shoo,
For auld ROB MORRIS is the man ye maun lue.
DOCHTER.
But auld ROB MORRIS I never will hae,
His back is sae stiff an his beard is grown gray:
I haed better dee than live wi him a year;
Sae mair o ROB MORRIS I never will hear.

AULD GUIDMAN

LATE in an evenin forth I went,
A little afore the sun gaed doun,
An there I chanced bi accident,
To licht on a battle new begun:
A man an his wife wis taen in a strife,
I canna weel tell you how it began;
But aye she wailed her wretched life,
An cried ever, Alake, my auld guidman.
Thy auld guidman that thoo tells o,
The country kens where he wis born,
Wis but a silly puir vagabond,
An ilka ane leuch him to scorn;
For he did spend an mak an end
O gear that his forefaithers wan,
He gart the puir stand frae the door,
Sae tell nae mair o thy auld guidman.
SHE.
My hert, alake, is liken to brak,
When I think on my winsome JOHN,
His blinkin ee, an gait sae free,
wis naething like thee, thoo dozened drone.
His rosie face, an flaxen hair,
An a skin as white as ony swan,
Wis lairge an tall, an comely witha',
An thoo'll never be like my auld guidman.
HE.
Why dis thoo pleen? I thee maintain,
For meal an maut thoo disna want;
But thy wild bees I canna please,
Nou when oor gear 'gins to growe scant.
O hoosehaud stuff thoo haes eneuch,
Thoo wants for naither pat nor pan;
O siclike ware he left thee bare,
Sae tell nae mair o thy auld guidman.
SHE.
Yes, I mey tell, an fret my fell,
To think on these blythe days I haed,
When he an I thegither lay
In airms into a weel made bed:
But nou I sich an mey be sad,
Thy courage is cauld, thy colour wan,
Thoo faulds thy feet, an fa's asleep,
An thoo'll ne'er be like my auld guidman.
Then comin wis the nicht sae dark,
An gane wis a' the licht o day;
The carle wis feared to miss his mark,
An therefore wad nae langer stey.
Then up he gat, an he ran his wey,
I trow the wife the day she wan.
An aye the owerwird o the fray
Wis ever, Alake, my auld guidman.

AULD SIR SIMON THE KING

SOME say that kissin's a sin,
But I say that winna stand:
It is a maist innocent thing,
An alloued bi the laws o the land.
If it were a transgression,
The ministers it wad reprove;
But they, their elders an session,
Can dae it as weel as the lave.
Its lang since it cam in fashion,
I'm shuir it will never be duin,
As lang as there's in the nation,
A lad, lass, wife, or a loun.
What can I say mair to commend it,
Tho I should speak a' my life?
Yet this will I say in the end o't,
Let every man kiss his ain wife.
Let him kiss her, clap her, an dawt her,
An gie her benevolence due,
An that will a thrifty wife mak her,
An sae I'll bid fareweel to you.

BIRKS O AIBERGELDY

I THOCHT it ance a lanesome life,
A lanesome life, a lanesome life,
I thocht it ance a lanesome life,
To lie sae lang my lane, jo:
But wha wadna my case regret?
Since I am cursed wi a mate,
What ance I langed for, nou I hate;
I'm quite anither man, jo.
When I wis full oot nineteen years,
Oot nineteen years, oot nineteen years,
When I wis full oot nineteen years,
I held my heid fou hiech, jo;
Then I resolved to tak a lass,
Ne'er thocht on what wad come to pass,
Nor leuked in matrimony's glass,
Till heidlang doun I cam, Jo.
Afore the fatal mairiage-day,
Sae keen wis I, sae keen wis I,
I rested naither nicht nor day,
But wandered up an doun, jo.
To please her I teuk meikle care,
Ane wad hae thocht I socht nae mair,
In the wide warld to my share,
But her wrapped in her goun, jo.
My ain sma' stock did scarce defray,
Did scarce defray, did scarce defray,
My ain sma' stock did scarce defray,
Hauf o the mairiage-chairge, jo;
For things belangin to a hoose,
I gae till I left ne'er a souce;
O but I'm turned wondrous douce,
An siller's no sae lairge, jo.
Her faither, an her freends likewice,
Her freends likewice, her freends likewice,
Did haed her oot for sic a prize,
I thocht nae labour lost, jo.
I dressed mysel frae neck to heel,
An a' wis for a gilded peel;
Nou I wad wish the meikle deil
Haed her, an pey the cost, jo.
Her faither sent a ship to sea,
A ship to sea, a ship to sea,
When it returns, qo he to me,
I'll pey you ilka plack, jo.
The servants grumble, guidwife raves,
When hungry stamack for them craves,
Nou I am tauld bi the auld knave,
The ship will ne'er cam back, jo.
Alack-a-day, what will I dae,
What will I dae, what will I dae?
Alack-a-day what will I dae?
The honey-month is duin, jo
My glitterin gowd is a' turned dross,
An siller scarcely will be brass.
I've naething but a bonny lass,
An she's quite oot o tune, jo.
Yet she lays a' the blame on me,
The blame on me, the blame on me,
Says I brocht her to misery,
This is a weary life, jo.
I'd run to the wide warld's end,
If I coud leave but her ahint;
I'm oot o hopes she'll ever mend;
She's pruved a very wife, jo.
Nou, bachelors, be wife in time,
Be wife in time, be wife in time,
Tho she's ca'd modest, fair an fine,
An rich in gowd an plate, jo;
Yet ye'll have cause to curse hard Fate,
If ance she catch you in her net;
Your blazin star will suin be set;
Then leuk afore ye lowp, jo.

BOB O DUMBLANE

LASSIE, lend me your braw hemp heckle,
An I'll lend you my ripplin kame;
For fainness, deary, I'll gar ye keckle,
If ye'll gae dance the Bob o Dumblane.
Haste ye gang to the grund o your trunkies,
Busk ye braw, an dinna think shame;
Consider in time, if leadin o monkeys
Be better than dancin the Bob o Dumblane.
Be frank, my lassie, lest I growe fickle,
An tak my wird an offer again,
Syne ye mey chance to repent it meikle
Ye didna accept o the Bob o Dumblane.
The denner, the piper, an priest shall be ready,
For I'm grown dowie wi lyin my lane;
Awa then leave baith minny an daddy,
An try wi me the Bob o Dumblane.

THE JOLLY BEGGAR

THERE wis a jolly beggar, an a beggin he wis boond,
An he teuk up his quarters into a land'art toun,
An we'll gang nae mair a rovin
Sae late into the nicht,
An we'll gang nae mair a rovin, boys,
Let the muin shine ne'er sae bricht.
An we'll gang nae mair a rovin.
He wad naither lie in barn, nor yet wad he in byre,
But in ahint the ha' door, or ense afore the fire.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
The beggar's bed wis made at e'en wi guid clean straw an hey,
An in ahint the ha' door, an there the beggar lay.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
Up raise the guidman's dochter, an for to bar the door,
An there she saw the beggar standin i' the fluir.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
He teuk the lassie in his airms, an to the bed he ran,
O hooly, hooly wi me, Sir, ye'll wauken oor guidman.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
The beggar wis a cunnin loon, an ne'er a wird he spak,
Until he got his turn duin, syne he began to crack.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
Is there ony dugs into this toun? Maiden, tell me true.
An what wad ye dae wi them, my hinny an my dou?
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
They'll rive a' my mealpocks, an dae me meikle wrang.
O duil for the daein o't! are ye the puir man?
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
Then she teuk up the mealpocks an flang them ower the waa,
The deil gae wi the mealpocks, my maidenheid an a'.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
I teuk ye for some gentleman, at least the Laird o Brodie;
O duil for the daein o't! are ye the puir bodie?
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
He teuk the lassie in his airms, an gae her kisses three,
An fower-an-twinty hunder mark to pey the nurice fee.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
He teuk a horn frae his side, an blew baith lood an shrill,
An fower-an-twenty belted knichts cam skippin ower the hill.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
An he teuk oot his little knife, loot a' his duddies fa',
An he wis the brawest gentleman that wis amang them a'.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.
The beggar wis a clever loon, an he lap shouther hicht,
O aye for seeken quarters as I gat yesternicht.
An we'll gang nae mair, &c.

CLOUT THE CAULDRON

HAVE you ony pots or pans,
Or ony broken chandlers?
I am a tinker to my trade,
An newly come frae Flanders,
As scant o siller as o grace,
Disbanded, we've a bad run;
Gar tell the lady o the place,
I'm come to clout her cauldron.
Fa' adrie, didle, didle, &c.
Madam, if you have wark for me,
I'll do't to your contentment,
An disna care a single flee
For ony man's resentment;
For lady fair, tho I appear
To every ane a tinker,
Yet to yoursel I'm bauld to tell,
I am a gentle jinker.
Fa' adrie, didle, didle, &c.
Love JUPITER into a swan
Turned for his lovely LEDA;
He like a bull ower meidaes ran,
To cairy aff Europa.
Then meyna I, as weel as he,
To cheat your Argos blinker,
An win your love like michty JOVE,
Thus hide me in a tinkler.
Fa' adrie, didle didle, &c.
Sir, ye appear a cunnin man,
But this fine plot you'll fail in,
For there is naither pot nor pan
O mine you'll drive a nail in.
Then bind your budget on your back,
An nails up in your apron,
For I've a tinkler under tack
That's uised to clout my cauldron.
Fa' adrie, didle, didle, &c.

LUCKY NANCY

Tune: DAINTY DAVIE.

WHILE fops in saft Italian verse,
Ilk fair ane's een an breest rehearse,
While sangs aboonds an sense is scarce,
Thir lines I have indited:
But naither dairts nor airaes here,
VENUS nor CUPID shall appear,
An yet wi thir fine soonds I swear,
The maidens are delyted.
I wis aye tellin you,
Lucky NANCY, lucky NANCY,
Auld springs wad ding the new,
But ye wad never trew me.
Nor snaw wi crimson will I mix,
To spreid upon my lassie's cheeks;
An syne the unmeanin name prefix,
MIRANDA, CHLOE, or PHILLIS.
I'll fesh nae simile frae Jove,
My hicht o ecstasy to prove,
Nor sichin-thus-present my love,
Wi roses eke an lilies.
I wis aye tellin you, &c.
But stey,-I haed amaist forgot
My mistress an my sang to buit,
An that's an unco faut I wat;
But, NANCY, it's nae maiter.
Ye see I clink my verse wi rhyme,
An ken ye, that atones the crime;
Forby, hou sweet my numbers chymes,
An slides awa like watter.
I wis aye tellin you, &c.
Nou ken, my reverend sonsie fair,
Thy runkled cheeks an lyart hair,
Thy hauf-shut een an hodlin air,
Is a' my passion's fuel.
Nae skyrin gowk, my dear, can see,
Or love, or grace, or heeven in thee;
Yet thoo haes chairms anew for me,
Then smile, an be na cruel.
Leez me on thy snawy pow,
Lucky NANCY, lucky NANCY,
Dryest wud will eithest low,
An, NANCY, sae will ye nou.
Troth I have sung the sang to you,
That ne'er anither bard wad dae;
Hear then my charitable vou,
Dear venerable NANCY.
But if the warld my passion wrang,
An say ye only lives in sang,
Ken I despise a slanderin tongue,
An sings to please my fancy.
Leez me on thy, &c.

DRUCKEN WIFE O GALLOWA

DOUN in yon meedae a couple did tarrie,
The guidwife she drank naething but sack an Canary.
The guidman complained to her freends richt aerly,
O! gin my wife wad drink hooly an fairly.
First she drank Crommy, an syne she drank Garie,
An syne she drank my bonny grey marie,
That cairied me throu the dubs an the lairie,
O! gin, &c.
She drank her hose, she drank her shuin,
An syne she drank her bonny new goun;
She drank her sark that covered her rarely,
O! gin, &c.
Wad she drink her ain things, I wadna care,
But she drinks my claes I canna weel spare;
When I'm wi my gossips, it angers me fairly,
O! gin, &c.
My Sunday's coat she haes laid it a wad###,
The best blue bunnet e'er wis on my heid:
At kirk an at mercat I'm covered but barely.
O! gin, &c.
My bonny white mittens I wore on my hauns,
Wi her neebor's wife she haes laid them in pawns;
My bane-heidit staff that I loe'd sae dearly.
O! gin, &c.
I never wis for wranglin nor strife,
Nor did I deny her the comforts o life,
For when there's a war, I'm aye for a parley.
O! gin, &c.
When there's ony money, she maun keep the purse:
If I seek but a bawbee, she'll scold an she'll curse;
She lives like a queen, I scrimped an sparely.
O! gin, &c.
A pint wi her comers I wad her allou,
But when she sits doun, she gets hersel fou,
An when she is fou she is unco camstarie.
O! gin, &c.
When she comes to the street, she roars an she rants,
Haes nae fear o her neebors, nor minds the hoose wants;
She rants up some fuil sang, like, Up yer hert, CHAIRLIE.
O! gin, &c.
When she comes hame, she lays on the lads,
The lasses she ca's them baith besoms an jads,
An ca's mysel aye ane auld cuckold carlie.
O! gin, &c.

FOR OOR LANG BIDIN HERE

WHEN we cam to London toun,
We dreamed o gowd in gowpens here,
An rantinly ran up an doun,
In rycin stocks to buy a skair:
We daftly thocht to rowe in rowth,
But for oor daffin peyed richt dear;
The lave will fare the war in truith,
For oor lang bidin here.
But when we fand oor purses tuim,
An dainty stocks began to fa',
We hang oor lugs, an wi a gluim,
Girned at stockjobbin ane an a'.
If ye gang near the Sooth-sea hoose,
The Whillywhas will grip your gear,
Syne a' the lave will fare the war,
For oor lang bidin here.

FOR THE SAKE O SOMEBODY

FOR the sake o somebody,
For the sake o somebody;
I coud wake a winter-nicht
For the sake o somebody.
I am gaun to seek a wife,
I am gaun to buy a plaidy;
I have three stane o woo;
Carlin is thy dochter ready?
For the sake, &c.
BETTY, lassie, say't thysel,
Tho thy dame be ill to shoo,
First we'll buckle, then we'll tell,
Let her flyte an syne come to:
What signifies a mither's gloom,
When love an kisses come in play?
Shoud we wither in oor bloom,
An in simmer mak nae hey?
For the sake, &c.
SHE.
Bonny lad, I carena by
Tho I try my luck wi thee,
Since ye are content to tie
The hauf-merk bridal-band wi me
I'll slip hame an wash my feet,
An steal on linens fair an clean,
Syne at the trystin-place we'll meet,
To dae but what my dame haes duin,
For the sake, &c.
HE.
Nou my lovely BETTY gies
Consent in sic a hertsome gate,
It me frae a' my care relieves,
An douts that gart me aft leuk blate;
Then let us gang an get the grace;
For they that haes an appetite
Should eat, an lovers should embrace;
If thir be fauts, it's Natur's wyte.
For the sake, &c.

FY GAR RUB HER OWER WI STRAE

GIN ye meet a bonny lassie,
Gie her a kiss an let her gae;
But if ye meet a dirty hussy,
Fy gar rub her ower wi strae.
Be shuir ye dinna quit the grip
O ilka joy when ye are young,
Afore auld age your vitals nip,
An lay you twafauld ower a rung.
Sweet youth's a blythe an hertsome time;
Then, lads an lasses, while it's Mey,
Gae pou the gowan in its prime,
Afore it wither an decay.
Watch the saft meenits o delyte,
When JENNY speaks beneath her braith,
An kisses, layin a' the wyte
On you, if she kep ony skaith.
Haith ye're ill bred, she'll, smilin, say,
Ye'll worry me, ye greedy rook;
Syne frae your airms she'll rin awa,
An hide hersel in some dark neuk.
Her lauch will lead you to the place
Where lyes the happiness ye want,
An plainly tell you to your face,
Nineteen na-says is hauf a grant.
Nou to her heavin bosom cling,
An sweetly tuilie for a kiss:
Frae her fair finger whoop a ring,
As taiken o a future bliss.
Thir benisons, I'm very shuir,
Is o the gods indulgent grant;
Then, surly carles, whisht, forbear
To plague us wi your whinin cant.

FEE HIM, FAITHER, FEE HIM

O SAW ye JOHNY comin, qo she,
Saw ye JOHNY comin;
O saw ye JOHNY comin, qo she,
Saw ye JOHNY comin;
O saw ye JOHNY comin, qo she,
Saw ye JOHNY comin;
Wi his blue bunnet on his heid,
An his doggie rinnin, qo she,
An his doggie rinnin?
O fee him, faither, fee him, qo she,
Fee him, faither, fee him;
O fee him, faither, fee him, qo she,
Fee him, faither, fee him;
For he is a gallant lad, an a weel-daein, qo she,
An a' the wark aboot the toun
Gaes wi me when I see him, qo she,
Gaes wi me when I see him.
O what will I dae wi him, qo he,
What will I dae wi him?
He haes ne'er a coat upon his back,
An I hae nane to gie him.
I hae twa coats into my kist,
An ane o them I'll gie him;
An for a merk o mair fee
Dinna stand wi him, qo she,
Dinna stand wi him.
For weel dae I loe him, qo she,
Weel dae I loe him;
For weel dae I loe him, qo she,
Weel dae I loe him.
O fee him, faither, fee him, qo she,
Fee him, faither, fee him;
He'll haud the pleuch, thrash in the barn,
An crack wi me at e'en, qo she,
An crack wi me at e'en.

GABERLUNZIE MAN

THE pawkie auld carl cam ower the lee,
Wi mony guid e'ens an days to me,
Sayin, Guidwife, for your coortesie,
Will you ludge a silly puir man?
The nicht wis cauld, the carl wis wat,
An doun ayont the ingle he sat;
My dochter's shouthers he 'gan to clap,
An cadgily ranted an sang.
O wow! qo he, were I as free,
As first when I saw this country,
Hou blythe an merry wad I be!
An I wad never think lang.
He grew canty, an they grew fain;
But little did her auld minny ken
What thir slee twa thegither were sayin,
When wooin they were sae thrang.
An O! qo he, an ye were as black
As e'er the croun o my daddie's hat,
It's I wad lay thee bi my back,
An awa wi me thoo should gang.
An O! qo she, an I were as white,
As e'er the snaw lay on the dyke,
I'd cleid me braw an lady like,
An awa wi thee I wad gang.
Between the twa wis made a plot;
They raise a wee afore the cock,
An wilily they shot the lock,
An fast to the bent are they gane.
Up in the morn the auld wife raise,
An at her leisure pat on the claes;
Syne to the servant's bed she gaes,
To speer for the silly puir man.
She gaed to the bed where the beggar lay,
The strae wis cauld, he wis away,
She clapped her hand, cried, Waladay!
For some o oor gear will be gane.
Some ran to coffers, an some to kists,
But nocht wis stown that coud be missed;
She danced her lane, cried, Praise be blessed!
I have ludged a leal puir man.
Since naething's awa, as we can learn,
The kirn's to kirn, an milk to earn,
Gae butt the hoose, lass, an wauken my bairn,
An bid her come quickly ben.
The servant gaed where the dochter lay,
The sheets wis cauld, she wis away,
An saft to her guid wife 'gan say,
She's aff wi the gaberlunzie man.
O fy gar ride, an fy gar rin,
An haste ye finnd thir traitors again;
For she's be burnt, an he's be slain,
The wearifu gaberlunzie-man.
Some rade upo' horse, some ran a fit,
The wife wis wud, an oot o her wit:
She coudna gang, nor yet coud she sit,
But aye she cursed an she banned.
Mean time far hind oot ower the lee,
Fou snug in a glen, where nane coud see,
The twa wi kindly sport an glee,
Cut frae a new cheese a whang:
The preein wis guid, it pleased them baith,
To loe her for aye, he gae her his aith.
Qo she, To leave thee I will be laith,
My winsome gaberlunzie-man.
O kend my minny I were wi you,
Ill-fardly wad she crook her mou,
Sic a puir man she'd never trew,
Efter the gaberlunzie-man.
My dear, qo he, ye're yet ower young,
An hinna learned the beggars tongue,
To follow me frae toun to toun,
An cairy the gaberlunzie on.
Wi cauk an keel I'll win your breid,
An spindles an whorls for them that needs,
Whilk is a gentle trade indeed,
To cairy the gaberlunzie on.
I'll bou my leg, an crook my knee,
An draw a black clout ower my ee,
A cripple or blinnd they will ca' me,
While we shall be merry an sing.

GYPSIE LADDIE

THE gypsies cam to oor guid lord's gate,
An wow but they sang sweetly;
They sang sae sweet, an sae very complete,
That doun cam the fair lady.
An she cam trippin doun the stair,
An a' her maids afore her;
As suin as they saw her well-fared face,
They cuist the glammer ower her.
Gae tak frae me this gay mantile,
An bring to me a plaidie;
For if kith an kin an a' haed sworn,
I'll follow the gypsie laddie.
Yestreen I lay in a weel-made bed,
An my guid lord beside me;
This nicht I'll lie in a tenant's barn,
Whatever shall betide me.
Oh! come to your bed, says JOHNIE FAA,
Oh! come to your bed, my deary;
For I vow an swear bi the hilt o my sword,
That your lord shall nae mair come near ye.
I'll gae to bed to my JOHNIE FAA,
An I'll gae to bed to my dearie;
For I vow an swear bi what passed yestreen,
That my lord shall nae mair come near me.
I'll mak a hap to my JOHNIE FAA,
An I'll mak a hap to my dearie;
An he's get a' the coat gaes roond,
An my lord shall nae mair come near me.
An when oor lord cam hame at e'en,
An speered for his fair lady,
The tane she cried, an the ither replied,
She's awa wi the gypsie laddie.
Gae saidle to me the black, black steed,
Gae saidle an mak him ready;
Afore that I aither eat or sleep,
I'll gae seek my fair lady.
An we were fifteen weel made men,
Altho we were nae bonny;
An we were a' pitten doun but ane,
For a fair young wanton lady.

JENNY DANG THE WEAVER

O MITHER dear, I 'gin to fear,
Tho I'm baith guid an bonny,
I winna keep; for in my sleep,
I start an dream o JOHNY.
When JOHNY then comes doun the glen,
To woo me, dinna hinder;
But wi content gie your consent,
For we twa ne'er can sinder.
Better to mairy, than miscairy;
For shame an skaith's the clink o't;
To thole the duil, to mount the stuil,
I downa bide to think o't;
Sae while 'tis time, I'll shun the crime,
That gars puir EPPS gae whingein,
Wi haunches fou, an een sae blue,
To a' the bedrals bingeing.
Haed EPPY'S apron bidden doun,
The kirk haed ne'er a kend it;
But when the word's gane throu the toun,
Alake hou can she mend it!
Nou TAM maun face the minister,
An she maun mount the pillar:
An that's the wey that they maun gae,
For puir folk haes nae siller.
Nou haud ye'r tongue, my dochter young,
Replied the kindly mither,
Get Johnny's hand in haly band,
Syne wap your wealth thegither.
I'm o the mind, if he be kind,
Ye'll dae your pairt discreetly;
An prove a wife, will gar his life,
An barrel run richt sweetly.

JOCKY FOU, JENNY FAIN

JOCKY fou, JENNY fain,
JENNY wisna ill to gain,
She wis couthie, he wis kind,
An thus the wooer telled his mind:
JENNY, I'll nae mair be nice,
Gie me love at ony price,
I winna prig for reid or white,
Love alane can gie delyte.
Others seek they kenna what,
In leuks, in cairiage, an a' that;
Gie me love for her I coort:
Love in love maks a' the sport.
Colours mingled unco fine,
Common motives lang sinsyne,
Never can engage my love,
Until my fancy first approve.
It isna meat, but appetite
That maks oor aetin a delyte;
Beauty is at best deceit;
Fancy only kens nae cheat.

JENNY NETTLES

Saw ye JENNY NETTLES,
JENNY NETTLES, JENNY NETTLES,
Saw ye JENNY NETTLES
Comin frae the mercat?
Bag an baggage on her back,
Her fee an boontith in her lap;
Bag an baggage on her back,
An a babie in her oxter.
I met ayont the cairnie,
JENNY NETTLES, JENNY NETTLES,
Singin till her bairnie,
ROBIN RATTLE'S bastard;
To flee the duil, upo' the stuil,
An ilka ane that mocks her,
She roond aboot, seeks ROBIN oot,
To stap it in his oxter.
Fy, fy! ROBIN RATTLE,
ROBIN RATTLE, ROBIN RATTLE;
Fy, fy! ROBIN RATTLE,
Uise JENNY NETTLES kindly;
Score oot the blame, an shun the shame,
An ithoot mair debate o't,
Tak hame your wean, mak JENNY fain,
The leel an leesome gate o't.

KIRK WAD LET ME BE

I WAS ance a weel-tochered lass,
My mither left dollars to me;
But nou I'm brocht to a puir pass,
My stepdame haes gart them flee.
My faither is aften frae hame,
An she plays the deil wi his gear;
She naither haes lawtith nor shame,
An keeps the hale hoose in a steer.
She's barmy-faced, thriftless an bauld,
An gars me aft fret an repine;
While hungry, hauf-naked an cauld,
I see her destroy what is mine:
But suin I micht hope a revenge,
An suin o my sorrows be free,
My puirtith to plenty wad change,
If she were hung up on a tree.
Qo RINGIN, that lang time haed loe'd
This bonny lass tenderly,
I'll tak thee, sweet MEY, in thy snood,
Gif thoo will gae hame wi me.
It's only yoursel that I want,
Your kindness is better to me
Than a' that your stepmither, scant
O grace, nou haes taen frae thee.
I'm but a young fermer, its true,
An ye are the sproot o a laird;
But I have milk-cattle enow,
An routh o guid rucks in my yaird;
Ye shall have naething to fash ye,
Sax servants shall jouk to thee:
Then kilt up thy coats, my lassie,
An gae thy weys hame wi me.
The maiden her raeson employed,
No thinkin the offer amiss,
Consented,--while RINGIN owerjoyed,
Received her wi mony a kiss.
An nou she sits blythe singan,
An jokin her drunken stepdame,
Delyted wi her dear RINGIN,
That maks her guidwife at hame.

YE BLYTHEST LADS AN LASSES GAY

Tune, Last Time I cam ower the Muir.
YE blythest lads, an lasses gay,
Hear what my sang discloses:
As I ae mornin sleepin lay,
Upon a bank o roses,
Young JAMIE whiskin ower the mead,
Bi guid luck chanced to spy me;
He teuk his bunnet aff his heid,
An saftly sat doun by me.
JAMIE tho I richt meikle prized,
Yet nou I wadna ken him;
But wi a froun my face disguised,
An strave awa to send him.
But fondly he still nearer prest,
An bi my side doun lyin,
His beatin hert thumped sae fast,
I thocht the lad wis deein.
But still resolvin to deny,
An angry passion feignin,
I aften ruchly shot him by,
Wi wirds full o disdainin.
Puir JAMIE bawked, nae favour wins,
Went aff much discontented;
But I, in truith, for a' my sins
Ne'er hauf sae sair repented.

LOW DOUN IN THE BROOM

MY daddy is a canker'd carle,
He'll nae twin wi his gear;
My minny she's a scaudin wife,
Hauds a' the hoose a-steer:
But let them say, or let them dae,
It's a' ane to me;
For he's low doun, he's in the broom,
That's waitin on me:
Waitin on me, my love,
He's waitin on me;
For he's low doun, he's in the broom,
That's waitin on me.
My auntie KATE sits at her wheel,
An sair she lichtlies me;
But weel ken I it's a' envy,
For ne'er a jo haes she.
But let them, &c.
My cousin KATE wis fair beguiled
Wi JOHNY i' the glen;
An aye sinsyne she cries, Bewaur
O fause deludin men.
But let them, &c.
Gleed SANDY he cam west ae nicht,
An speered when I saw PATE;
An aye sinsyne the neebors roond
They jeer me air an late.
But let them, &c.
Nou JENNY she's gane doun the broom,
An it's to meet wi PATE;
But what they said; or what they did,
It's needless to repeat:
But they seemed blythe an weel content
Sae merry mat they be;
For a constant swain haes PATIE pruved,
An nae less kind wis she.
Ye've waited on me, my love,
Ye've waited on me,
Ye've waited lang amang the broom,
Nou I am bound to thee:
Sae let them say, or let them dae,
It's a' ane to me;
For I have voued to loe ye, lad,
Until the day I dee.

LASS WI A LUMP O LAND

GIE me a lass wi a lump o land,
An we for life shall gang the gither,
Tho daft or wice, I'll never demand,
Or black, or fair, it maksna whether.
I'm aff wi wit, an beauty will fade,
An bluid alane is no worth a shillin,
But she that's rich, her mercat's made,
For ilka chairm aboot her is killin.
Gie me a lass wi a lump o land,
An in my bosom I'll hug my traesur;
Gin I haed ance her gear in my hand,
Should love turn dowf, it will finnd plaesur.
Lauch on wha likes, but there's my hand,
I hate wi puirtith, tho bonny, to meddle,
Unless they bring cash, or a lump o land,
They'll ne'er get me to dance to their fiddle.
There's meikle guid love in bands an bags,
An siller an gowd's a sweet complexion;
For beauty, an wit, an virtue in rags,
Haes tint the art o gainin affection:
Love tips his airaes wi wids an parks,
An castles, an riggs, an muirs, an meidaes,
An naething can catch oor modern sparks
But well-tochered lasses, or jointur'd-weedaes.

MY JO JANET

SWEET Sir, for your coortesie,
When ye come by the Bass then,
For the love ye bear to me,
Buy me a keekin-gless then.
Keek into the draw-well, JANET, JANET;
An there ye'll see your bonny sel, my jo JANET.
Keekin in the draw-well clear,
What if I should fa' in,
Syne a' my kin will say an swear,
I drouned mysel for sin.
Haed the better bi the brae, JANET, JANET;
Haed the better bi the brae, my jo JANET.
Guid Sir, for your coortesie,
Comin throu Aiberdeen then,
For the love ye bear to me,
Buy me a pair o shuin then.
Clout the auld, the new are dear, JANET, JANET;
Ae pair mey gain ye hauf a year, my jo JANET.
But what if dancin on the green,
An skippin like a mawkin,
If they should see my clouted shuin,
O me they will be taukin.
Dance aye laich, an late at een, JANET, JANET.
Syne a' their fauts will no be seen, my jo JANET.
Kind Sir, for your coortesie,
When ye gae to the cross then,
For the love ye bear to me,
Buy me a pacin-horse then.
Pace upo' your spinnin-wheel, JANET, JANET,
Pace upo' your spinnin-wheel, my jo JANET.
My spinnin-wheel is auld an stiff,
The rock o't winna stand, Sir,
To keep the temper-peen in tiff,
Employs aft my hand, Sir.
Mak the best o't that ye can, JANET, JANET;
But like it never wale a man, my jo JANET.

MY DADDY FORBAD, MY MINNY FORBAD

WHEN I think on my lad, I sich an is sad,
For nou he is far frae me.
My daddy wis harsh, my minny wis warse,
That gart him gae yont the sea,
Ithoot an estate, that made him leuk blate;
An yet a brave lad is he.
Gin safe he come hame, in spite o my dame,
He'll ever be welcome to me.
Love speers nae advice o parents ower wice,
That haes but ae bairn like me,
That leuks upon cash, as naething but trash,
That shackles what should be free.
An tho my dear lad no ae penny haed,
Since qualities better haes he;
Abeit I'm an heiress, I think it but fair is,
To loe him, since he loes me.
Then, my dear JAMIE, to thy kind JEANIE,
Haste, haste thee in ower the sea,
To her that can finnd nae ease in her mind,
Ithoot a blythe sicht o thee.
Tho my daddy forbad, an my minny forbad,
Forbidden I winna be;
For since thoo alane my favour haes won,
Nane else shall e'er get it for me.
Yet them I'll no grieve, or ithoot their leave,
Gie my hand as a wife to thee:
Be content wi a hert that can never desert,
Till they cease to oppose or be.
My parents mey prove yet freends to oor love,
When oor firm resolves they see;
Then I wi plaesur will yield up my traesur,
An a' that love orders, to thee.

MAGGIE LAUDER

WHA wadna be in love
Wi bonny MAGGIE LAUDER?
A piper met her gaun to Fife,
An speered what wis't they ca'd her;
Richt scornfully she answered him,
Begane, ye hallanshakker,
Jog on yer gate, ye bladderskate,
My name is MAGGIE LAUDER.
MAGGIE, qo he, an bi my bags,
I'm fidgin fain to see thee;
Sit doun bi me, my bonny bird,
In troth I winna steer thee;
For I'm a piper to my trade,
My name is RAB the Ranter,
The lasses lowps as they wis daft,
When I blaw up my chanter.
Piper, qo MEG, hae you yer bags,
Or is your drone in order?
If you be RAB, I've heard o you,
Live you upo' the border?
The lasses a', baith far an near,
Haes heard o RAB the Ranter;
I'll shak my fit wi richt guidwill,
Gif you'll blaw up your chanter.
Then to his bags he flew wi speed,
Aboot the drone he twisted;
MEG up an walloped ower the green,
For brawly could she frisk it.
Weel duin, qo he, play up, qo she,
Weel bobbed, qo RAB the Ranter,
It's worth my while to play indeed,
When I hae sic a dancer.
Weel hae ye played your pairt, qo MEG,
Your cheeks is like the crimson;
There's nane in Scotland plays sae weel,
Since we lost HABBIE SIMPSON.
I've lived in Fife, baith maid an wife,
Thir ten years an a quarter;
Gin you should come to Anster fair,
Speer ye for MAGGIE LAUDER.

MAGGIE'S TOCHER

THE meal wis dear shortsyne,
We buckled us a' thegither;
An MAGGIE wis in her prime,
When WILLIE made coortship til her.
Twa pistols chairged beguess,
To gie the coortin-shot;
An syne cam ben the lass,
Wi swats drawn frae the butt.
He first speered at the guidman,
An syne at GILES the mither,
An ye wad gie's a bit land,
We'd buckle us e'en thegither.
My dochter ye shall hae,
I'll gie you her bi the hand;
But I'll pairt wi my wife, bi my say,
Or I pairt wi my land.
Your tocher it sall be guid,
There's nane sall hae its maik,
The lass bound in her snood,
An Crummie that kens her stake
Wi an auld beddin o claiths,
Wis left me bi my mither,
They're jet-black ower wi flechs,
Ye mey cuddle in them thegither.
Ye spaek richt weel, guidman,
But ye maun mend your hand,
An think o modesty,
Gin you'll no quat your land.
We are but young, ye ken,
An nou we're gaun the gither,
A hoose is but an ben,
An Crummie will want her sother.
The bairns is comin on,
An they'll cry, O their mither!
We've nouther pat nor pan,
But fower bare legs thegither.
Yer tocher'se be guid eneuch,
For that ye needna fear,
Twa guid stilts to the pleuch,
An ye yersel maun steer:
Ye sall hae twa guid pocks
That ance wis o the tweel,
The t'ane to haud the grots,
The ither to haud the meal:
Wi an auld kist made o wands,
An that sall be your coffer,
Wi aiken wuddy bands,
An that mey haud your tocher.
Consider weel, guidman,
We hae but barrow'd gear,
The horse that I ride on
Is SANDY WILSON'S meir;
The saidle's nane o my ain,
An thae's but barrow'd buits,
An whan that I gae hame,
I maun tak to my cuits;
The cloak is GEORDIE WATT'S,
That gars me leuk sae crouse;
Come, fill us a cog o swats,
We'll mak nae mair tuim ruif.
I like you weel, young lad,
For tellin me sae plain,
I mairied whan little I haed
O gear that wis my ain.
But sin that things are sae,
The bride she maun come furth,
Tho a' the gear she'll hae
It'll be but little worth.
A bargain it maun be,
Fy cry on GILES the mither;
Content am I, qo she,
E'en gar the hizzy come hither.
The bride she gade to her bed,
The bridegroom he cam till her;
The fiddler crap in at the fit,
An they cuddled it a' thegither.

NORLAND JOCKY

A SOOTHLAND JENNY, that wis richt bonny,
Haed for a suitor a Norland JOHNY:
But he wis siccan a bashfu wooer,
That he coud scarcely spaek unto her;
Till blinks o her beauty, an hopes o her siller,
Forced him at last to tell his mind till her.
My dear, qo he, we'll nae langer tarry,
Gin ye can loe me, let's ower the muir an mairy.
SHE.
Come, come awa then, my Norland laddie,
Tho we gang neatly, some's mair gaudy;
An albeit I have naither gowd nor money,
Come, an I'll ware my beauty on thee.
HE.
Ye lasses o the sooth, ye're a' for dressin;
Lasses o the north mind milkin an threshin;
My minny wad be angry, an sae wad my daddie,
Should I mairy ane as dink as a lady;
For I maun hae a wife that will ryce i' the mornin,
Crudle a' the milk, an keep the hoose a' scoldin,
Tuilie wi her neebors, an learn at my minny.
A Norland JOCKY maun hae a Norland JENNY.
SHE.
My faither's only dochter, an twenty thoosand pound,
Shall never be bestowed on sic a silly clown:
For a' that I said wis to try what wis in ye
Gae hame, ye Norland JOCK, an coort your Norland JENNY.

OWER THE HILLS AN FAR AWA

JOCKY met wi JENNY fair,
Aft bi the dawin o the day;
But JOCKY nou is fou o care,
Since JENNY staw his hert away:
Altho she promised to be true,
She pruiven haes, alake! unkind;
Which gars puir JOCKY aften rue,
That e'er he loe'd a fickle mind.
An it's ower the hills an far away,
It's ower the hills an far away,
It's ower the hills an far away,
The wind haes blawn my plaid away.
Nou JOCKY wis a bonny lad
As e'er wis born in Scotland fair;
But nou, puir man, he's e'en gane wud,
Since JENNY haes gart him despair.
Young JOCKY wis a piper's son,
An fell in love when he wis young,
But a' the springs that he coud play
Wis, Ower the hills an far away.
An it's ower the hills, &c.
He sung,--When first my JENNY'S face
I saw, she seemed sae fou o grace,
Wi meikle joy my hert wis filled,
That's nou, alace! wi sorrow killed.
Oh! wis she but as true as fair,
It wad pit an end to my despair.
Insteed o that, she is unkind,
An wavers like the winter wind,
An it's ower the hills, &c.
Ah! coud she finnd the dismal wae,
That for her fake I undergae,
She coudna chuise but grant relief,
An pit an end to a' my grief:
But, oh! she is as fause as fair,
Which causes a' my sichs an care;
An she triumphs in prood disdain,
An taks a plaesur in my pain.
An it's ower the hills, &c.
Hard wis my hap, to fa' in love,
Wi ane that dis sae faithless prove!
Hard wis my fate, to coort a maid,
That haes my constant hert betrayed!
A thoosand times to me she sware,
She wad be true for evermair;
But to my grief; alake! I say,
She staw my hert, an ran away.
An it's ower the hills, &c.
Since that she will nae peety tak,
I maun gae wander for her sake,
An, in ilk wud an gloomy grove,
I'll sichin sing, Adieu to love.
Since she is fause that I adore,
I'll never trust a wumman mair:
Frae a' their chairms I'll flee away,
An on my pipe I'll sweetly play,
Ower hills an dales an far away,
Ower hills an dales an far away,
Ower hills an dales an far away,
The wind haes blawn my plaid away.

WEE PICKLE GOWD

Tune: Rock an wee Pickle Tow.
I HAE a green purse an a wee pickle gowd,
A bonny piece land, an plantin on't,
It fattens my flocks, an my barns it haes stowed;
But the best thing o a's yet wantin on't:
To grace it, an trace it, an gie me delyte,
To bless me, an kiss me, an comfort my sicht,
Wi beauty bi day, an kindness bi nicht,
An nae mair my lane gang saunterin on't.
My CHIRSTY is chairmin, an guid as she's fair;
Her een an her mooth are enchantin sweet;
She smiles me on fire, her frouns gie despair;
I loe while my hert gaes pantin wi't.
Thoo fairest an dearest delyte o my mind,
Thats gracious embraces bi Heeven wis designed
For happiest transports, an blisses refined,
Nae langer delay thy grantin sweet.
For thee, bonny CHIRSTY, my shepherds an hynds
Shall carefully mak the year's denties thine;
Thus free'd frae laich care, while love fills oor minds,
Oor days shall wi plaesur an plenty shine.
Then hear me, an cheer me wi smilin consent,
Believe me, an gie me nae cause to lament,
Since I ne'er can be happy till thoo say Content,
I'm pleased wi my JAMIE, an he shall be mine.

COME, LAT'S HAE MAIR WINE IN

To the Tune o Saw ye nae my PEGGY.
COME, let's hae mair wine in,
BACCHUS hates repinin,
VENUS loes nae dwinin,
Let's be blythe an free.
Awa wi duil, Here t'ye, Sir,
Your mistress, ROBIE, gies her,
We'll drink her health wi plaesur,
Wha's beloved bi thee.
Then let PEGGY warm ye,
That's a lass can chairm ye,
An to joys alairm ye,
Sweet is she to me.
Some angel ye wad ca' her,
An never wish ane brawer,
If ye bareheided saw her,
Kiltit to the knee.
PEGGY a denty lass is;
Come, let's jine oor glesses,
An refresh oor hauses,
Wi a health to thee.
Let cuifs their cash be clinkin,
Be statesmen tint in thinkin,
While we wi love an drinkin
Gies oor cares the lee.

SPINNIN WHEEL

AS I sat at my spinnin-wheel,
A bonny lad wis passin by:
I viewed him roond, an liked him weel,
For trouth he haed a glancin ee.
My hert new pantin 'gan to feel,
But still I turned my spinnin-wheel.
Wi leuks a' kindness he drew near,
An still mair lovely did appear;
An roond aboot my slender waist
He clasped his airms, an me embraced:
To kiss my hand syne doun did kneel,
As I sat at my spinnin-wheel.
My milk-white hands he did extol,
An praised my fingers lang an sma',
An said, there wisna lady fair
That ever coud wi me compare.
Thir wirds into my hert did steal,
But still I turned my spinnin-wheel.
Altho I seeminly did chide,
Yet he wad never be denied,
But still declared his love the mair,
Until my hert wis wounded sair:
That I my love coud scarce conceal,
Yet still I turned my spinnin-wheel.
My hanks o yarn, my rock an reel,
My winnels an my spinnin-wheel;
He bid me leave them a' wi speed,
An gang wi him to yonder mead:
My yieldin hert strange flames did feel,
Yet still I turned my spinnin-wheel.
Aboot my neck his airm he laid,
An whispered, Ryce, my bonny maid,
An wi me to yon heycock gae,
I'll teach thee better wark to dae.
In trouth, I loe'd the motion weel,
An loot alane my spinnin-wheel.
Amang the plaesant cocks o hey,
Then wi my bonny lad I lay;
What lassie, young an saft as I,
Coud sic a handsome lad deny?
Thir plaesurs I canna reveal,
That far surpassed the spinnin-wheel.

STEER HER UP AN HAUD HER GAUN

STEER her up, an haud her gaun,
Her mither's at the mill, jo;
But gin she winna tak a man,
E'en let her tak her will, jo.
Pray thee, lad, leave silly thinkin,
Cast thy cares o love awa;
Let's oor sorrows droun in drinkin,
It's daffin langer to delay.
See that shinin gless o claret,
How invitinly it leuks;
Tak it aff, an let's hae mair o't,
Pox on sichin, trade, an beuks.
Let's hae mair plaesur while we're able,
Bring us in the meikle bowle,
Place't on the middle o the table,
An let the wind an weather gowl.
Caa the drawer, let him fill it
Fou as ever it can haud:
O tak tent ye dinna spill it,
It's mair praecious far then gowd.
Bi ye've drunk a dizzen bumpers,
BACCHUS will begin to prove,
Spite o VENUS an her mumpers,
Drinkin better is than love.

SLEEPY BODY

Somnolente, quoeso, repent
Vigila, vivat, me tange.
Somnolente, quoeso, repent
Vigila, vive, me tange.
Come me ambiebas,
Videri solebas
Amoris negotiis aptus;
At factus moritus,
In lecto sopitus
Somno es, haud amore, tu captus.
O sleepy body,
An drousy body,
O wiltuna wauken an turn thee?
To drivel an draunt,
While I sich an gaunt,
Gies me guid raeson to scorn thee.
When thoo should be kind,
Thoo turns sleepy an blinnd,
An snotters an snores far frae me,
Wae licht on thy face,
Thy dowfy embrace
Is eneuch to gar me betray thee.

THIS IS NO MINE AIN HOOSE

THIS is no mine ain hoose,
I ken bi the riggin o't;
Since wi my love I've changed vous,
I dinna like the biggin o't.
For nou that I'm young RABBIE'S bride,
An mistress o his fire-side,
Mine ain hoose I like to guide,
An please me wi the triggin o't.
Then fareweel to my faither's hoose,
I gang where love invites me;
The strictest duty this allous,
When love wi honour meets me.
When HYMEN moulds me into ane,
My RABBIE'S nearer than my kin,
An to refuise him were a sin,
Sae lang's he kindly treats me.
When I am in mine ain hoose,
True love shall be at hand aye,
To mak me still a prudent spouse,
An let my man command aye;
Avoidin ilka cause o strife,
The common pest o mairied life,
That maks ane wearied o his wife,
An braks the kindly band aye.

TODDLIN HAME

WHAN I've a saxpence under my thoum,
Then I'll get credit in ilka toun:
But aye whan I'm puir they bid me gang by;
O! poverty pairts guid company.
Toddlin hame, toddlin hame,
Couldna my love come toddlin hame?
Fair fa' the guidwife, an send her guid sale,
She gies us white bannocks to drink her ale,
Syne if her tippenny chance to be sma',
We'll tak a guid scoor o't, an ca't awa.
Toddlin hame, toddlin hame,
As roond as a neep come toddlin hame.
My kimmer an me lays doun to sleep,
An twa pint stoups at oor bed-feet;
An aye when we waukened we drank them dry:
What think ye o my wee kimmer an I?
Toddlin but an toddlin ben,
Sae roond as my love comes toddlin hame.
Leeze me on liqor, my toddlin dou,
Ye're aye sae guid-humoured when weetin your mou;
When sober sae soor, ye'll fecht wi a flee,
That it's a blythe sicht to the bairns an me,
Toddlin hame, toddlin hame,
When roond as a neep ye come toddlin hame.

WHAT'S THAT TO YOU?

MY JEANIE an me have toiled
The live-lang summer-day,
Till we amaist wis spyled
At makkin o the hey:
Her kurchy wis o holland clear,
Tied on her bonny brou;
I whispered something in her ear,
But what's that to you?
Her stockins wis o Kersy green,
As ticht as ony silk:
O sic a leg wis never seen,
Her skin wis white as milk;
Her hair wis black as ane could wish,
An sweet, sweet wis her mou;
Oh! JEANIE dentily can kiss,
But what's that to you?
The rose an lily baith combines
To mak my JEANIE fair,
There is nae benison like mines,
I have amaist nae care;
Only I fear my JEANY'S face
Mey cause mae men to rue,
An that mey gar me say, Alace!
But what's that to you?
Conceal thy beauties if thoo can,
Hide that sweet face o thine,
That I mey only be the man
Enjoys thir leuks divine.
O dinna prostitute, my dear,
Wonders to common view,
An I, wi faithfu hert, shall swier
For ever to be true.
King SOLOMON haed wifes enew,
An mony a concubine;
But I enjoy a bliss mair true;
His joys wis short o mine:
An JEANY'S happier than they,
She seldom wants her due;
A' debts o love to her I'll pey,
An what's that to you?

WERENA MY HERT LICHT I WAD DEE

THERE wis ance a MEY, an she loe'd na men,
She biggit her bonny bouer doun in yon glen;
But nou she cries duil! an a weel-a-day!
Come doun the green gate, an come here away.
But nou she cries, &c.
When bonny young JOHNY cam ower the sea,
He said he saw naething sae lovely as me;
He hecht me baith rings an mony braw things;
An werena my hert licht I wad dee.
He hecht me, &c.
He haed a wee titty that loed na me,
Because I wis twice as bonny as she;
She raised sic a pother 'twixt him an his mither,
That werena my hert licht I wad dee.
She raised, &c.
The day it wis set, an the bridal to be,
The wife teuk a dwam, an lay doun to dee;
She mained an she grain'd oot o dolour an pain,
Till he voued he never wad see me again.
She mained, &c.
His kin wis for ane o a hiecher degree,
Said, What haed he to dae wi the like o me!
Albeit I wis bonny, I wisna for JOHNY:
An werena my hert licht I wad dee.
Albeit I wis bonny, &c.
They said I haed naither cou nor caff,
Nor dribbles o drink rins throw the draff,
Nor pickles o meal rins throw the mill-ee;
An werena my hert licht I wad dee.
Nor pickles o, &c.
His titty she wis baith wylie an slee,
She spied me as I cam ower the lee;
An then she ran in an made a lood din,
Believe yer ain een, an ye trow na me.
An then she, &c.
His bunnet stuid aye fou roond on his brou;
His auld ane leuks aye as weel as some's new:
But nou he lets't wier ony gate it will hing,
An casts himsel dowie upo' the corn-bing.
But nou he, &c.
An nou he gaes droopin aboot the dykes,
An a' he dow dae is to hund the tykes:
The live-lang nicht he ne'er steeks his ee,
An werena my hert licht I wad dee.
The live-lang, &c.
Were I young for thee, as I hae been,
We shoud hae been gallopin doun on yon green,
An linkin it on the lily-white lee;
An wow gin I were but young for thee.
An linkin, &c.

WEEDAE, ARE YE WAUKIN?

O WHA'S that at my chaumer-door?
"Fair weedae, are ye waukin?"
Auld carl, yer suit gie ower,
Yer love lies a' in taukin.
Gie me a lad that's young an ticht,
Sweet like an Aprile meedae;
It's sic as he can bless the sicht,
An bosom o a weedae.
"O weedae, will thoo let me in?
"I'm pawky, wife, an thrifty,
"An come o a richt gentle kin;
"I'm little mair than fifty."
Daft carle, dit your mooth,
What signifies how pawky,
Or gentle-born ye be,--bot youth,
In love ye're but a gawky.
"Then, weedae, let thir guineas spaek,
"That pouerfully plead clinkan;
"An if they fail, my mooth I'll steek,
"An nae mair love will think on."
Thir coorts indeed, I maun confess,
I think they mak you young, Sir,
An ten times better can express
Affection, than your tongue, Sir.

WE'LL A' TO KELSO GAE

AN I'll awa to bonny Tweed-side,
An see my deary come throw,
An he sall be mine, gif sae he incline,
For I hate to lead apes ablo.
While young an fair, I'll mak it my care,
To siccar mysel in a jo;
I'm no lik a fuil to let my bluid cuil,
An syne gae lead apes ablo.
Few wirds, bonny lad, will eithly persuad,
Tho blushin, I daftly say, no;
Gae on wi your strain, an doutna to gain,
For I hate to lead apes ablo.
Untied to a man, dae whate'er we can,
We never can thrive or dow;
Then I will dae weel, dae better wha will,
An let them lead apes ablo.
Oor time is praecious, an gods are gracious,
That beauties upon us bestow:
It's no to be thocht we got them for nocht,
Or to be set up for a show.
It's cairied bi votes, come, kilt up yer coats,
An let us to Edinburgh gae,
Where she that's bonny mey catch a JOHNY,
An never lead apes ablo.

WE'RE GEYLY YET

WE'RE geyly yet, an we're geyly yet,
An we're no very fou, but we're geyly yet;
Then sit ye a while, an tipple a bit,
For we're no very fou, but we're geyly yet.
There wis a lad an they ca'd him DICKY,
He gae me a kiss, an I bit his lippy;
Then under my apron he shewed me a trick;
An we're no very fou, but we're geyly yet.
An we're geyly yet, &c.
There were three lads, an they were clad,
There were three lasses, an they them haed,
Three trees in the orchard are newly sprung,
An we's a' get gear eneuch, we're but young,
Then up wi't AILLIE, AILLIE,
Up wi't, AILLIE, nou,
Then up wi't, AILLIE, qo kimmer,
We'se a' get roarin fou.
An ane wis kissed in the barn,
Anither wis kissed on the green,
The third ahint the pease stack,
Till the mow flew up to her een.
Then up wi't, &c.
Nou, fy, JOHN THOMSON, rin,
Gin ever ye ran in your life;
Deil get you, but hey, my dear JACK,
There's a man got a-bed wi your wife.
Then up wi't, &c.
Then awa JOHN THOMSON ran,
An I trow he ran wi speed;
But afore he haed run his length,
The fause loon haed duin the deed.
We're geyly yet, &c.

THE YELLOW-HAIRED LADDIE

THE yellow-haired laddie sat doun on yon brae,
Cries, Milk the yowes, lassie, let nane o them gae;
An aye she milked, an aye she sang,
The yellow-haired laddie shall be my guidman.
An aye she milked, &c.
The weather is cauld, an my claithin is thin,
The yowes are new clipped, they winna bucht in;
They winna bucht in tho I shoud dee,
O yellow-haired laddie, be kind to me,
They winna bucht in, &c.
The guidwife cries butt the hoose, JENNY, come ben,
The cheese is to mak, an the butter's to kirn;
Tho butter, an cheese, an a' shoud soor,
I'll crack an kiss wi my love ae hauf oor;
It's ae hauf oor, an we's e'en mak it three,
For the yellow-haired laddie my husband shall be.

NAE DOMINIES FOR ME, LADDIE

I CHANCED to meet an airy blade,
A new-made poupiteer, laddie,
Wi cocked-up hat an poudered wig,
Black coat an cuffs fou clear, laddie;
A lang cravat at him did wag,
An buckles at his knee, laddie;
Says he, My hert, bi CUPID'S dairt,
Is captivate to thee, lassie.
I'll raither chuise to thole grim daith;
Sae cease an let me be, laddie:
For what? says he; Guid troth, said I,
Nae dominies for me, laddie.
Ministers' stipends is uncertain rents
For ladies' conjunct-fee, laddie;
When beuks an goons is a' cried doun,
Nae dominies for me, laddie.
But for yer sake I'll fleece the flock,
Growe rich as I growe auld, lassie;
If I be spared I'll be a laird,
An thoo'se be Madam ca'd, lassie.
But what if ye shoud chance to dee,
Leave bairns, ane or twa, laddie?
Naething wad be reserved for them
But hair-mouled beuks to gnaw, laddie.
At this he angry wis, I wat,
He gloomed an leukit fou hiech, laddie:
When I perceived this, in haste
I left my dominie, laddie.
Fare ye weel, my chairmin maid,
This lesson learn o me, lassie,
At the next offer haud him fast,
That first maks love to thee, lassie.
Then I returnin hame again,
An comin doun the toun, laddie,
Bi my guid luck I chanced to meet
A gentleman dragoon, laddie;
An he teuk me bi baith the hands,
It wis help in time o need, laddie.
Fuils on ceremonies stands,
At twa wirds we agreed, laddie.
He led me to his quarter-hoose,
Where we exchainged a wird, laddie:
We haed nae uise for black-goons there,
We mairied ower the sword, laddie.
Martial drums is muisic fine,
Compared wi tinklin bells, laddie;
Gowd, reid an blue, is mair divine
Than black, the hue o Hell, laddie.
Kings, queens, an princes, craves the aid
O my brave stoot dragoon, laddie;
While dominies is much employed
'boot hoores an sackcloth goons, laddie.
Awa wi a' thir whinin loons;
They leuk like, Let me be, laddie:
I've mair delyte in roarin guns;
Nae dominies for me, laddie.

JAMIE GAY

AS JAMIE gay ganged blythe his wey
Alang the river Tweed,
A bonny lass as e'er wis seen,
Cam trippin ower the mead.
The herty swain, untocht to feign,
The buxom nymph surveyed,
An full o glee as lad could be,
Bespak the pretty maid.
Dear Lassie tell, why bi thinesel
Thoo hastily wanders here.
My yowes, she cried, are strayin wide,
Can tell me, laddie, where?
To toun I'll hie, he made reply,
Some meikle sport to see,
But thoo'r sae sweet, sae trim an neat,
I'll seek the yowes wi thee.
She gae'm her hand, nor made a stand,
But liked the youth's intent;
Ower hill an dale, ower plain an vale
Richt merrily they went.
The birds sang sweet, the pair to greet,
An flouers bloomed aroond;
An as they walked, o love they talked,
An joys that lovers crouned.
An nou the sun haed rose to nuin,
The zenith o his pouer,
When to a shade their steps they made,
To pass the mid-day oor.
The bonny lad rowed in his plaid
The lass, that scorned to froun;
She suin forgot the yowes she socht,
An he to gang to toun.

I'VE BEEN COORTIN

I'VE been coortin at a lass
Thir twenty days an mair;
Her faither winna gie me her,
She haes sic a glebe o gear,
But gin I haed her where I wad
Amang the heather here,
I'd strive to win her kindness,
For a' her faither's care.
For she's a bonny sonsy lass,
An airmsfu, I swier;
I'd mairy her ithoot a coat,
Or e'er a plack o gear.
For, trust me, when I saw her first,
She gae me sic a wound,
That a' the doctors i' the earth
Can never mak me soond.
For when she's absent frae my sicht,
I think upon her still;
An when I sleep, or when I wauk,
She dis my senses fill.
Mey Heevens gaird the bonny lass
That sweetens a' my life;
An shame fa' me gin e'er I seek
Anither for my wife.

HERE AWA, THERE AWA

HERE awa, there awa, here awa WILLIE,
Here awa, there awa, here awa hame;
Lang hiv I focht thee, dear hiv I bocht thee,
Nou I hiv gotten my WILLIE again.
Throu the lang muir I hiv follaed my WILLIE,
Throu the lang muir I hiv follaed him hame,
Whatever betide us, nocht shall divide us;
Love nou rewairds a' my sorrow an pain.
Here awa, there awa, here awa, WILLIE,
Here awa, there awa, here awa hame,
Come Love, believe me, naething can grieve me,
Ilka thing pleases while WILLIE'S at hame.