Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/353

Rh

, and I'll come to you, my lad;

O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad;

Tho' father, and mother, and a' should gae mad,

O, whistle, and I'll come to you, my lad.

But warily tent, when you come to court me,

And come na unless the back-yett be a-jee;

Syne up the back-stile, and let nae body see,

And come as ye were na comin' to me,

And come as ye were na comin' to me.

O, whistle, &c.

At kirk or at market, whene'er ye meet me,

Gang by me as though that ye cared na a flie;

But steal me a blink o' your bonnie black e'e,

Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me,

Yet look as ye were na lookin' at me.

O, whistle, &c.

Aye vow and protest that ye care na for me,

And whyles ye may lichtly my beauty a wee;

But court na anither, though jokin' ye be,

For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me,

For fear that she wyle your fancy frae me.

O, whistle, &c.

hame to your lingels, ye ne'er-do-weel loon,

You're the king o' the dyvours, the talk o' the town,

Sae soon as the Munonday morning comes in,

Your wearifu' daidling again maun begin.

Gudewife, you're a skillet, your tongue's just a bell,

To the peace o' gude fallows it rings the death-knell,

But clack till ye deafen auld Barnaby's mill,

The souter shall aye ha'e his Munonday's yill.

Come hame to your lap-stane, come hame to your last,

It's a bonnie affair that your family maun fast,

While you and your crew here a-guzzling maun sit,

Ye daised drunken gude-for-nocht heir of the pit,

Just leuk, how I'm gaun without stocking or shoe,

Your baims a' in tatters, an' fotherless too,

An' yet, quite content, like a sot, ye'll sit still,

Till your kyte's like to crack, wi' your Munonday's yill.

I tell you, gudewife, gin you haud na your clack,

I'll lend you a reestle wi' this owre your back;

Maun we be abused an' affronted by you,

Wi' siccan fool names as "loon," "dyvour," an' "crew?"

Come hame to your lingels, this instant come hame,

Or I'll redden your face, gin ye've yet ony shame,

For I'll bring a' the bairns, an' we'll just ha'e our fill,

As weel as yoursel', o' your Munonday's yill.

Gin that be the gate o't, sirs, come, let us stir,

What need we sit here to be pestered by her?

For she'll plague an' affront us as far as she can;

Did ever a woman sae bother a man?

Frae yill house to yill house she'll after us rin,

An' raise the hale town wi' her yelpin' and din;

Come, ca' the gudewife, bid her bring in her bill,

I see I maun quat takin' Munonday's yill.

[ Herd's collection the following fragment is preserved:

I ha'e layen three herring a-sa't;

Bonnie lass, gin ze'll tak' me, tell me now,

And I ha'e brew'n three pickles o' ma't,

And I canna cum ilka day to woo,

To woo, to woo, to lilt and to woo,

And I canna cum ilka day to woo.

I ha'e a wee calf that wad fain be a cow;

Bonnie lass, gin ze'll tak' me, tell me now;

I ha'e a grice that wad fain be a sow,

And I canna cum ilka day to woo.

To woo, to woo, &c.

From this fragment,, otherwise called Balloon Tytler, of whom we have spoken in previous notes, constructed the following song, which, with its lively air, is given in the third volume of Johnson's Museum. Mr. Mackay, cf the Edinburgh theatre, used to sing the song with pawkie glee, and was instrumental in rendering it popular.]

laid a herring in saut,

Lass gin ye lo'e me tell me now

1 ha'e brew'd a forpet o' maut,

An' I canna come ilka day to woo.