Page:Songs.pdf/5

5 Last cul I gaed in to the fair,

To wair out my Hallowmas guinea ;

When wha said I fa' in wi' there

A’ dinket cut finely-but Jeanie;

I couldna gang by her for shame,

I couldna but speak else be saucy,

See I had to oxter her hame,

An’ buy a silk snood to the lassie

It’s no but she’s baith gude an fair.

It's no but she’s winsome an’ bonnie:

Her cen, glancing ’neath gowden hair,

Are brighter, I daursay, than eny.

But pawkie een's naething to me,

Of gowd locks I want nae the straikin’;

Folk speak about love—but they’ll see.

For anee, by my faith ! they’re mistaken.

I promised the lasses a spree,

I promised the lads a paradin’,

I canna weel hae’t—let me see—

Unless I get up a bit waddin’.

I think I'll send ower for the clark,

He might cry us out the neist Sunday;

It’s winter—we’re nae thrang at wark,

Sae I think I’ll just marry gn Monday!

 

O, are sae happy as me an’ my Janet?

O, wha are sae happy as Janet an’ me?

We'er baith turning auld, an'our w'ealth is soon tauld,

But eontentment ye'll find in our cottage sae wee.

She the lang day when I'm out wi' the owsen,

She croons i' the house while I sing at the plough;

And aye her blythe smile walcomes me frae my toil,

As up the laug glen I come weared, J trow!