Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/112

94 Her hearth was slokent out wi' care,

Toom grew her kist and cauld her pan,

And dreigh and dowie waxed the night,

Ere Beltane, wi' her new gudeman.

She dreary sits 'tween naked wa's,

Her cheek ne'er dimpled into mirth;

Half-happit, haurling out o' doors,

And hunger-haunted at her hearth.

And see the tears fa' frae her een,

Warm happin' down her haffits wan;

But guess her bitterness of saul

In sorrow for her auld gudeman!

[ by, to the tune of "The Rock and the Wee Pickle Tow."]

[ in 1803 (during the alarm of a French invasion) by, now or recently bethral or church officer in the parish of Bowuen, Roxburghshire.]

wi' bent and wi' heather,

Where muircocks and plovers were rife,

For mony a lang towmond together,

There lived an auld man and his wife:

About the affairs o' the nation

The twasome they seldom were mute;

Bonaparte, the French, and invasion,

Did sa'ur in their wizzins like soot.

In winter, whan deep were the gutters,

And nicht's gloomy canopy spread,

Auld Symon sat luntin' his cuttie,

And lowsin' his buttons for bed;