BOOK IV - THE HEARTH 57 - THE RANTIN’ DOG THE DADDIE O'T O WHA my babie-clouts will buy? O wha will tent me when I cry? Wha will kiss me where I lie?— =The rantin’ dog the daddie o’t. O wha will own he did the fau’t? O wha will buy the groanin’ maut? O wha will tell me how to ca’t?— =The rantin’ dog the daddie o’t. When I mount the creepie chair, Wha will sit beside me there? Gie me Rob, I’ll seek nae mair, =The rantin’ dog the daddie o’t. Wha will crack to me my lane? Wha will mak me fidgin’ fain? Wha will kiss me o’er again?— =The rantin’ dog the daddie o’t. =======_Robert Burns_. 58 - THE WAITING BRIDE "O WHA will shoe my bonny foot? =And wha will glove my hand? And wha will lace my middle jimp, =Wi’ a lang, lang linen band? "O wha will kame my yellow hair, =Wi’ a haw bayberry kame? And wha will be my babe’s father =Till Gregory come hame?" "Thy father he will shoe thy foot, =Thy brother will glove thy hand, Thy mither will bind thy middle jimp =Wi’ a lang, lang linen band. "Thy sister will kame thy yellow hair, =Wi’ a haw bayberry kame; The Almighty will be thy babe’s father, =Till Gregory come hame." 59 - THE GARMONT OF GUDE LADIES WALD my gude lady lufe me best, =And work eftir my will, I suld ane garmont gudliest =Gar mak her body till. Of hie honour suld be her hude, =Upon her heid to wear, Garneist with governance so gude, =Na deeming suld her deir. Her serk suld be her body nixt, =Of chastitie so white, With shame and dreid togidder mixt, =The same suld he perfite. Her kirtle suld be of clean constance, =Laced with leesome lufe, The mailyeis of continuance =For never to remufe. Her gown suld be of gudliness, =Weil ribbon’d with renoun, Purfillit with pleasure in ilk place, =Furrit with fine fassoun. Her belt suld be of benignitie, =About her middle meet; Her mantle of humilitie, =To thole baith wind and weet. Her hat suld be of fair-having, =And her tepat of truth; Her patelet of gude-pansing; =Her hals-ribbon of ruth. Her sleevis suld be of esperance, =To keep her fra despair; Her glovis of gude governance, =To guide her fingeris fair. Her shoon suld be of siccarness, =In sign that scho nocht slide; Her hose of honestie, I guess I suld for her provide. Wald scho put on this garmont gay, =I durst swear by my seill, That scho wore never green nor grey =That set her half so weil. =======_Robert Henryson_. 60 - A HAPPY FIRESIDE CLIME I HAE a wife and twa wee laddies, They maun hae brose and brats o’ duddies; Ye ken yoursel my heart right proud is— ====I need na vaunt, But I’ll sned besoms, thraw saugh woodies, ====Before they want.... But to conclude my silly rhyme, (I’m scant o’ verse, and scant o’ time), To make a happy fireside clime ====To weans and wife; That’s the true pathos and sublime ====Of human life. =======_Robert Burns_. 61 - JOHN ANDERSON, MY JO JOHN ANDERSON, my jo, John, =When we were first acquent; Your locks were like the raven, =Your bonnie brow was brent; But now your brow is beld, John, =Your locks are like the snaw; But blessings on your frosty pow, =John Anderson, my jo. John Anderson, my jo, John, =We clamb the hill thegither; And mony a cantie day, John, =We’ve had wi’ ane anither: Now we maun totter down, John, =And hand in hand we’ll go; And sleep thegither at the foot, =John Anderson, my jo. =======_Robert Burns_. 62 - A HIGHLAND CRADLE SONG HEE balou, my sweet wee Donald, Image of the great Clanronald! Brawlie kens our wanton chief Wha gat my young Highland thief. Leeze me on thy bonnie craigie! An thou live thou’ll stea! a naigie, Travel the country thro’ and thro’, And bring me hame a Carlisle cow. Thro’ the Lawlands, o’er the Border, Weel, my babie, may thou furder, Herry the louns o’ the laigh countrie, Syne to the Highlands hame to me. =======_Robert Burns_. 63 - CAN YE SEW CUSHIONS? O CAN ye sew cushions? =Or can ye sew sheets? An’ can ye sing ba-la-loo =When the bairnie greets? An’ hee an’ ba, birdie, =An’ hee an’ ba, lamb, An’ hee an’ ba, birdie, =My bonnie wee man. ==Hee O, wee O, what’ll I dae wi’ ye? ==Black is the life that I lead wi’ ye, ==Mony o’ ye, little to gie ye, ==Hee O, wee O, what’ll I dae wi’ ye? Now hush-a-ba, lammie, =An’ hush-a-ba, dear, Now hush-a-ba, lammie, =Thy minnie is here. The wild wind is ravin’, =Thy minnie’s heart’s sair; The wild wind is ravin’, =An’ ye dinna care. Sing ba-la-loo, lammie, =Sing ba-la-loo, dear, Does wee lammie ken =That his daddie’s no here? Ye’re rockin’ fu’ sweetly =Upon my warm knee, But your daddie’s a-rockin’ =Upon the saut sea. 64 - MY WIFE’S A WINSOME WEE THING MY wife’s a winsome wee thing, A bonnie, blythesome wee thing, My dear, my constant wee thing, =And evermair sall be; It warms my heart to view her; I canna choose but lo’e her; And oh, weel may I trow her, =How dearly she lo’es me! For tho’ her face sae fair be As nane could ever mair be; And tho’ her wit sae rare be =As seenil do we see; Her beauty ne’er had gain’d me, Her wit had ne’er enchain’d me, Nor baith sae lang retain’d me, =But for her love to me. When wealth and pride disown’d me, A’ views were dark around me; And sad and laigh she found me =As friendless worth could be: Whan ither hope gaed frae me, Her pity kind did stay me, And love for love she gae me ;— =And that’s the love for me! And, till this heart is cauld, I That charm o’ life will hald by; And, tho’ my wife grow auld, my =Leal love ay young will he; For she’s my winsome wee thing, My canty, blythesome wee thing, My tender, constant wee thing, =And evermair sall be. =======_Robert Jamieson_. 65 - THE FARMER’S INGLE ===_Et multo in primis hilarans convivia Baccho_, ===_Ante focum, si frigus erit_.—VIRG., _Buc_. WHEN gloamin’ grey out-owre the welkin keeks; =When Batie ca’s his owsen to the byre; When Thrasher John, sair dung, his barn-door steeks, =And lusty lasses at the dightin’ tire; What bangs fu’ leal the e’enin’s coming cauld, =And gars snaw-tappit winter freeze in vain? Gars dowie mortal look baith blythe and bauld, =Nor fley’d wi’ a’ the poortith o’ the plain? =Begin, my Muse! and chaunt in hamely strain. Frae the big stack, weel winnow’t on the hill, =Wi’ divots theekit frae the weet and drift, Sods, peats and heathery truffs the chimley fill, =And gar their thickening smeek salute the lift. The gudeman, new come hame, is blythe to find, =When he out-owre the hallan flings his een, That ilka turn is handled to his mind; =That a’ his housie looks sae cosh and clean; =For cleanly house lo'es he, though e’er so mean. Weel kens the gudewife that the pleughs require =A heartsome meltith, and refreshing synd O’ nappy liquor, owre a bleezin’ fire; =Sair wark and poortith downa weel be join’d. Wi’ butter’d bannocks now the girdle reeks; =I’ the far nook the bowie briskly reams; The readied kail stand by the chimley cheeks, =And haud the riggin het wi’ welcome streams, =Whilk than the daintiest kitchen nicer seems.... The couthy cracks begin when supper’s owre; =The cheering bicker gars them glibly gash O’ simmer’s showery blinks, and winter sour, =Whase floods did erst their mailin’s produce hash. ‘Bout kirk and market eke their tales gae on; =How Jock woo’d Jenny here to be his bride: And there how Marion, for a bastard son, =Upon the cutty stool was forced to ride, =The waefu’ scauld o’ our Mess John to bide. The fient a cheep’s amang the bairnies now, =For a’ their anger’s wi’ their hunger gane: Aye maun the childer, wi’ a fastin’ mou’, =Grumble and greet, and mak an unco mane. In rangles round, before the ingle’s lowe, =Frae gudame’s mouth auld warld tales they hear, O’ warlocks loupin’ round the wirrikow; =O’ ghaists, that win in glen and kirk-yard drear; =Whilk touzles a’ their tap, and gars them shak wi’ fear! In its auld lerroch yet the deas remains, =Where the gudeman aft streeks him at his ease; A warm and canny lean for weary banes =O’ labourers dyolt upon the weary leas. Round him will baudrons and the collie come, =To wag their tail, and cast a thankfu’ e’e To him wha kindly throws them mony a crum =O’ kebbuck whang’d, and dainty fadge, to pree; =This a’ the boon they crave, and a’ the fee. Frae him the lads their mornin’ counsel tak- =What stacks he wants to thrash, what rigs to till; How big a birn maun lie on Bassie’s back, =For meal and mu’ter to the thirlin’ mill. Neist, the gudewife her hirelin’ damsels bids =Glow’r through the byre, and see the hawkies bound; Tak tent, case Crummy tak her wonted tids, =And ca’ the laiglen’s treasure on the ground; =Whilk spills a kebbuck nice, or yellow pound. Then a’ the house for sleep begin to grien, =Their joints to slack frae industry a while; The leaden god fa’s heavy on their een, =And hafflins steeks them frae their daily toil; The cruizy, too, can only blink and bleer. =The reistit ingle’s done the maist it dow; Tacksman and cottar eke to bed maun steer, =Upon the cod to clear their drumly pow, =Till waken’d by the dawnin’s ruddy glow.... =======_Robert Fergusson_. 66 - THERE’S NAE LUCK ABOUT THE HOUSE FOR there’s nae luck about the house, =There’s nae luck at a’; There’s little pleasure in the house, =When our gudeman’s awa’. And are ye sure the news is true? =And are ye sure he’s weel ? Is this a time to think o’ wark? =Ye jauds, fling bye your wheel, Is this a time to think o’ wark, =When Colin’s at the door? Rax me my cloak, I’ll to the quay. =And see him come ashore. And gie to me my bigonnet, =My bishop-satin gown, For I maun tell the bailie’s wife =That Colin’s come to town. My Turkey slippers maun gae on. =My hose o’ pearl blue; ‘Tis a’ to please my ain gudeman, =For he’s baith leal and true. Rise up and mak’ a clean fireside, =Put on the muckle pat; Gie little Kate her cotton gown, =And Jock his Sunday coat; And mak’ their shoon as black as slaes, =Their hose as white as snaw; It’s a’ to please my ain gudeman: =He likes to see them braw. There’s twa fat hens upon the bauk, =Been fed this month and mair; Mak’ haste and thraw their necks about, =That Colin weel may fare. And spread the table neat and clean, =Gar ilka thing look braw, For wha can tell how Colin fared =When he was far awa’? Sae true his heart, sae smooth his speech, =His breath like caller air; His very fit has music in’t =As he comes up the stair. And will I see his face again? =And will I hear him speak? I’m downright dizzy with the thought: =In troth, I’m like to greet. ==For there’s nae luck about the house, ===There’s nae luck at a’; ==There’s little pleasure in the house ===When our gudeman’s awa’. 67 - BESSIE AND HER SPINNING-WHEEL O LEEZE me on my spinnin-wheel, And leeze me on my rock and reel; Frae tap to tae that cleeds me bien, And haps me fiel and warm at e’en! I’ll set me down and sing and spin, While laigh descends the simmer sun, Blest wi’ content, and milk and meal— O leeze me on my spinnin-wheel! On ilka hand the burnies trot, And meet below my theekit cot; The scented birk and hawthorn white, Across the pool their arms unite, Alike to screen the birdies’ nest, And little fishes’ caller rest: The sun blinks kindly in the biel’, Where blithe I turn my spinnin-wheel. On lofty aiks the cushats wail, And echo cons the doolfu’ tate; The lintwhites in the hazel braes, Delighted, rival ither’s lays: The craik amang the clover hay, The paitrick whirrin’ o’er the ley, The swallow jinkin’ round my shiel, Amuse me at my spinnin-wheel. Wi’ sma’ to sell, and less to buy, Aboon distress, below envy, O wha would leave this humble state, For a’ the pride of a’ the great? Amid their flaring, idle toys, Amid their cumbrous, dinsome joys, Can they the peace and pleasure feel Of Bessie at her spinnin-wheel ? 68 - O WEEL MAY THE BOATIE ROW O WEEL may the boatie row, =And better may she speed! And weel may the boatie row, =That wins the bairns’ bread! The boatie rows, the boatie rows, =The boatie rows indeed; And happy be the lot of a’ =That wishes her to speed! I cuist my line in Largo Bay, =And fishes I caught nine; There’s three to boil, and three to fry, =And three o bait the line. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, =The boatie rows indeed; And happy be the lot of a’ =That wishes her to speed! O weel may the boatie row, =That fills a heavy creel, And cleads us a’ frae head to feet, =And buys our parritch meal. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, =The boatie rows indeed; And happy be the lot of a’ =That wish the boatie speed. When Jamie vow’d he would be mine, =And wan frae me my heart, O muckle lighter grew my creel! =He swore we’d never part. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, =The boatie rows fu’ weel; And muckle lighter is the lade, =When love bears up the creel. My kurtch I put upon my head, =An’ dressed mysel’ fu’ braw; I trow my heart was dowf and wae =When Jamie gaed awa’. But weel may the boatie row, =And lucky be her part; And lightsome be the lassie’s care =That yields an honest heart! When Sawnie, Jock, and Janetie =Are up and gotten lear, They’ll help to gar the boatie row, =And lighten a’ our care. The boatie rows, the boatie rows, =The boatie rows fu’ weel; And lightsome be her heart that bears =The murlain and the creel! And when wi’ age we’re worn down, =And hirpling round the door, They’ll row to keep us hale and warm, =As we did them before. Then weel may the boatie row, =That wins the bairns’ bread; And happy be the lot of a’ =That wish the boatie speed! 69 - I’LL GAR OUR GUDEMAN TROW I’LL gar our gudeman trow =I’ll sell the ladle, If he winna buy to me =A bonnie side-saddle, To ride to kirk and bridal, =Arid round about the town; Sae stand about, ye fisher jauds, =And gie my gown room! I’ll gar our gudeman trow, =I’ll tak’ the fling-strings, If he winna buy to me =Twal bonnie gowd rings; Ane for ilka finger, =And twa for ilka thoom; Sae stand about, ye fisher jauds, =And gie my gown room! I’ll gar our gudeman trow =That I’m gaun to die, If he winna fee to me =Valets twa or three, To bear my train up frae the dirt, =And ush me through the town; Sae stand about, ye fisher jauds, =And gie my gown room! 70 - AN ILL WIFE WHEN ilka herd for cauld his fingers rubs, And cakes o’ ice are seen upo’ the dubs; At mornin’, when frae pleugh or fauld I come, I'll see a braw reek rising frae my lum, And aiblins think to get a rantin’ blaze, To fley the frost awa’, and toast my taes; But when I shoot my nose in, ten to ane, If I weelfar’dly see my ain hearthstane. She round the ingle wi’ her gimmers sits, Crammin’ their gebbies wi’ her nicest bits; While the gudeman out-by maun fill his crap Frae the milk coggie or the parritch cap. =======_Robert Fergusson_. 71 - WILLIE WASTLE WILLIE WASTLE dwalt on Tweed, =The spot they ca’d it Linkumdoddie, Willie was a wabster guid, =Cou’d stown a clue wi’ ony bodie: He had a wife was dour and din, =O Tinkler Maidgie was her mither! Sic a wife as Willie had, =I wad na gie a button for her. She has an e’e—she has but ane— =The cat has twa the very colour; Five rusty teeth, forbye a stump, =A clapper-tongue wad deave a miller; A whiskin’ beard about her mou’, =Her nose and chin they threaten ither— Sic a wife as Willie had, =I wad na gie a button for her. She’s bow-hough’d, she’s hem-shinn’d, =Ae limpin’ leg, a hand-breed shorter; She’s twisted right, she’s twisted left, =To balance fair in ilka quarter: She has a hump upon her breast, =The twin o’ that upon her shouther— Sic a wife as Willie had, =I wad na gie a button for her. Auld baudrons by the ingle sits, =An’ wi’ her loof her face a-washin’; But Willie’s wife is nae sae trig, =She dights her grunzie wi’ a hushion; Her walie nieves like midden-creels, =Her face wad fyle the Logan-Water— Sic a wife as Willie had, =I wad na gie a button for her. =======_Robert Burns_. 72 - GET UP AND BAR THE DOOR AND the barrin’ o’ our door weil, weil, weil, And the barrin’ o’ our door weil. It fell about the Martinmas time, =And a gay time it was than, When our gudewife had puddin’s to mak’, =And she boil’d them in the pan. The wind blew cauld frae south to north, =It blew into the floor; Says our gudeman to our gudewife: ="Get up and bar the door." "My hand is in my hussyfe-skep, =Gudeman, as ye may see; An’ it shouldna be barr’d this hunner year, =It’s no’ be barr’d for me." They made a paction ‘tween them twa, =They made it firm and sure, The first that spak’ the foremost word =Should rise and bar the door. Then by there came twa gentlemen =At twelve o’clock at nicht; And they could neither see house nor ha’, =Nor coal nor candle-licht. "Now whether is this a rich man’s house =Or whether is this a puir? But never a word wad ane o’ them speak, =For the barrin’ o’ the door. And first they ate the white puddin’s, =And syne they ate the black; And muckle thocht our gudewife to hersell, =But never a word she spak’. "Then said the tane unto the tother: ="Hae, man, take ye my knife; Do ye tak’ aff the auld man’s beard, =And I’ll kiss the gudewife." "But there’s nae water in the house, =And what shall we do than?" "What ails ye at the puddin’ broo =That boils into the pan?" O up then startit our gudeman, =And an angry man was he: "Wad ye kiss my wife before my face, =And scaud me wi’ puddin’ bree?" Then up and startit our gudewife =Gied three skips on the floor: "Gudeman, ye’ve spoken the foremost word, =Get up and bar the door." 73 - BENTY BOWS, ROBIN ROBIN’S gane to the south countree, =Holland, green Holland! And there he’s courted a gay ladye, =Benty bows, Robin! He’s wed her, and he’s brought her hame, =Holland, green Holland! Weel I wat, she’s a denty dame, =Benty bows, Robin! She winna wash, she winna wring, =Holland, green Holland! For wearing o’ her gay gold ring, =Benty bows, Robin! She winna bake, she winna brew, =Holland, green Holland! For spoiling o’ her comely hue, =Benty bows, Robin! She winna spin, she winna card, =Holland, green Holland! But she will gallant wi’ the laird, =Benty bows, Robin! Robin’s came hame frae the plough, =Holland, green Holland! Cries, "Is my dinner ready now?" =Benty bows, Robin! "You’re a’ mista’en, gudeman," says she, =Holland, green Holland! "To think I’ll servant be to thee," =Benty bows, Robin! Robin’s gane unto the faul’, =Holland, green Holland! He’s catch’d a wedder by the spaul, =Benty bows, Robin! He’s carried it, and brought it hame, =Holland, green Holland! To gi’e it to his denty dame, =Benty bows, Robin! Robin’s killed his wedder black, =Holland, green Holland! He’s laid the skin upon her back, =Benty bows, Robin! He’s laid the skin upon her back, =Holland, green Holland! And on the skin he’s laid a whack, =Benty bows, Robin! "I daurna pay thee for thy kin," =Holland, green Holland! "But I may pay my wedder’s skin," =Benty bows, Robin! "I daurna pay my lady’s back," =Holland, green Holland! "But I may pay my wedder black," =Benty bows, Robin! Now they are women grown and men, =I wish and pray weel may they be; And if you prove a good husband. =E’en tak’ your auld cloak about ye." Bell, my wife, she lo’es nae strife, =But she would guide me if she can; And to maintain an easy life, =I aft maun yield, though I’m gudeman. Nocht’s to be won at woman’s han’, =Unless you gi’e her a’ the plea; Then I’ll leave aff where I began, =And tak’ my auld cloak about me.