Page:New pease strae.pdf/5

( 5 ) But when the simmer was over,

O pale and wane grew I!

Like ane risen out o’ a fever,

or ane just gaun to die!

My master he came an' asked me,

what was the matter wi’ me ?

If I knew any thing that wou’d caseease [sic] me,

at my comman’ it shou’d be.

Oh! I maun own my crime, Sir,

tho’ it be to my shame and disgrace,

I went out for to meet wi’ the lad,

the lad that gi’es out your mass;

His voice it was too shrill,

he pitch'd o’er high for me;

And ay sinsyne I remember

that I been likin’ to die.

Then my laddie was sent for,

and he came hingin’ his mou’;

Says Mess John had you been a good bairn

we wadna hae sent for you:

My lassie is lyin’ sick,

an’ on, you she lays a’ the blame ;

An’ ye ken ony way ye’ve wrang’d her,

ye’ll raise her as speedy again.

O I never harm’d your lassie,

neither by night nor by day;

But it was on a fine simmer-evening,

when crossing o’er the way,

When crossing o’er the way,

I learn’d her how to sing,

And pitching the high notes o’ bangor,

has driven her a’ out o’ tune.