Page:The Book of Scottish Song.djvu/83

Rh Thou strik'st the dull peasant, he sinks in the dark,

Nor saves ev'n the wreck of a name.

Thou strik'st the young hero, a glorious mark!

He falls in the blaze of his fame.

In the field of proud honour, our swords in our hands,

Our king and our country to save;

While victory shines on life's last ebbing sands,

O, who would not die with the brave!

[ by. Music by J. P. Knight.]

[ author of this song, to the tune of "Woo'd and married and a'," is unknown. It appears in Herd's collection of 1776, but is of much older date.]

bride cam' out o' the byre,

And, O, as she dighted her cheeks!

Sirs, I'm to be married the night,

And have neither blankets nor sheets;

Have neither blankets nor sheets,

Nor scarce a coverlet too,

The bride that has a' thing to borrow,

Has e'en right muckle ado.

Woo'd and married, and a',

Married, and woo'd, and a'!

And was she nae very weel off,

That was woo'd, and married and a'?

Out spake the bride's father,

As he cam' in frae the pleugh,

O, haud your tongue, my dochter,

And ye'se get gear eneugh;

The stirk stands i' th' tether,

And our bra' bawsint yade,

Will carry ye hame your corn—

What wad ye be at, ye jade?

Out spake the bride's mither,

What deil needs a' this pride?

I had nae a plack in my pouch

That night I was a bride;

My gown was linsy-woolsy,

And ne'er a sark ava;

And ye ha'e ribbons and buskins,

Mae than ane or twa.

What's the matter, quo' Willie;

Though we be scant o' claes,

We'll creep the closer thegither,

And we'll smoor a' the fleas:

Simmer is coming on,

And we'll get taits o' woo;

And we'll get a lass o' our ain,

And she'll spin claiths anew.

Out spake the bride's brither,

As he came in wi' the kye;

Poor Willie wad ne'er ha'e ta'en ye,

Had he kent ye as weel as I;