Page:Sailor's epitaph, or, Tom Bowling under the hatches.pdf/5



ruddy morn blinks o'er the brae,

as blithe I gade to milk my kine,

When near the winding burn of Tay,

wi’ bonny gait, and twa black eenz;

A highland lad sae kind me tent,

saying, Sonfy lass. how’s a' wi’ you?

Shall I your pail tak o'er the bent?

'twas yes, kind Sir, and I thank you too.

Again he met me i' the e’en,

as I was linken o’er the lee.

To join the dance upo’ the green,

and said, blithe lass, I’ll gang wi’ thee;

Sae braw he look’d in the highland gear,

his tartan plaid, and bonnet blue,

My heart straight whisper'd in my ear,

say yes, kind Sir, and I thank you too.

We danc’d until the gleaming moon,

ga’e notice that it was time to part,

I thought the reel was done o’er soon,

for ah! the lad had stown my heart;

He saw me hame across the plain

then kist sae sweet, I vow ’tis true.

That when he ask’d to kiss again,

’twas yes, kind Sir, and I thank you too.

Grown bold, he prest to stay a’ night,

then gript me close unto his breast,

Hout lad! my mither fair wou’d flyte,

gif that I grant without the priest;