Page:Fugitive Poetry 1600-1878.djvu/421

  nae kith, I hae nae kin, Nor ane that's dear to me; For the bonnie lad that I lo'e best, He's far ayont the sea. He's gane wi' ane that was our ain, And we may rue the day When our king's ae daughter came here To play sic foul play.

Oh, gin I were a bonnie bird Wi' wings, that I might flee! Then would I travel o'er the main, My ae true-love to see. Then I wad tell a joyfu' tale To ane that's dear to me, And sit upon a king's window And sing my melody.

The adder lies i' the corbie's nest Aneath the corbie's wing, And the blast that reaves the corbie's brood Will soon blaw hame our king. Then blaw ye east, or blaw ye west, Oi' blaw ye o'er the faeiri, Oh, bring the lad that I lo'e best, And ane I darena name.  undefined  My love was born in Aberdeen, The bonniest lad that e'er was seen; But now he makes our hearts fu' sad— He's ta'en the field wi' his white cockade. Oh, he's a ranting, roving blade! Oh, he's a brisk and a bonny lad! Betide what may, my heart is glad To see my lad wi' his white cockade.

Oh, leeze me on the philabeg, The hairy hough, and gartered leg! But aye the thing that glads my e'e, Is the white cockade aboon the bree. 