Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/214

196 The landwart hizzy winna speak;

Ye'll see her sitting like a craw

Amang the reek, while rattons squeak—

Her dawtit bard is now awa'.

But could I lay my hand upon

His whistle, keenly wad I blaw,

An' screw about the auld drone,

An' lilt a lightsome spring or twa.

If it were sweetest aye whan wat,

Then wad I ripe my pouch, an' draw,

An' steep it weel amang the maut,

As lang's I'd saxpence at my ca'.

For warld's gear I dinna care,

My stock o' that is unco sma'.

Come, friend, we'll pree the barley-bree

To his braid fame that's now awa'.

, baloo, my wee wee thing,

O saftly close thy blinkin' e'e!

Baloo, baloo, my wee wee thing,

For thou art doubly dear to me.