Page:New pease strae.pdf/2

 

HE country swain that tends the plain,

driving the lightsome plough,

At night, tho’ tir’d, with love a’ fir’d

he views the lasses’ brow.

When morning comes, instead of drums,

the flails clap merrily,

To raise the maids oot o’ their beds

to shake the Pease Strae.

Fair Jenny raise, put on her claiths,

fyne turn’d her voice to sing:

She sang sae sweet, with notes compleat,

gar’d a’ the echoes ring;

An’ a’ the maids laid by their flails,

then danced merrily,

And bless’d the hour that they had power

to shake the Pease Strae.

The musing swain, disturb’d in brain,

fast to her arms he flew,

And strove a while then, wi’ a smile,

said, Jenny redd in here.

She cries right aft, I think ye’re daft,

to tempt a lassie sae;

Ye’ll do me wrang, pray let me gang,

an’ shake the Pease Strae.

My heart. Said he, fair wounded be,

for thee, my Jenny fair;

Without a jest I get nae rest,

my bed it proves a snare.