Volume Ii Part 70 (1/2)

You'll say and unsay, and you'll flatter, 'tis true!

Then to leave a young maiden's the first thing you do.

O judge not so harshly, the shepherd replied, To prove what I say, I will make you my bride.

To-morrow the parson--(well-said, little swain!)-- Shall join both our hands, and make one of us twain.

Then what the nymph answered to this isn't said, The very next morn, to be sure, they were wed.

Sing hey-diddle,--ho-diddle,--hey-diddle-down,-- Now when shall we see such a wedding in town?

Unknown

”O MERRY MAY THE MAID BE”

O merry may the maid be That marries wi' the miller, For, foul day and fair day, He's aye bringing till her,-- Has aye a penny in his purse For dinner or for supper; And, gin she please, a good fat cheese And lumps of yellow b.u.t.ter.

When Jamie first did woo me, I speired what was his calling; ”Fair maid,” says he, ”O come and see, Ye're welcome to my dwalling.”

Though I was shy, yet could I spy The truth o' what he told me, And that his house was warm and couth, And room in it to hold me.

Behind the door a bag o' meal, And in the kist was plenty O' guid hard cakes his mither bakes, And bannocks werena scanty.

A guid fat sow, a sleeky cow Was standing in the byre, Whilst lazy puss with mealy mouse Was playing at the fire.

”Guid signs are these,” my mither says, And bids me tak' the miller; For, fair day and foul day, He's aye bringing till her; For meal and maut she doesna want, Nor anything that's dainty; And now and then a kecking hen, To lay her eggs in plenty.

In winter, when the wind and rain Blaws o'er the house and byre, He sits beside a clean hearth-stane, Before a rousing fire.

With nut-brown ale he tells his tale, Which rows him o'er fu' nappy:-- Wha'd be a king--a petty thing, When a miller lives so happy?

John Clerk [1684-1755]

THE La.s.s O' GOWRIE

'Twas on a simmer's afternoon, A wee afore the sun gaed doun, A la.s.sie wi' a braw new goun Cam' owre the hills to Gowrie.

The rosebud washed in simmer's shower Bloomed fresh within the sunny bower; But Kitty was the fairest flower That e'er was seen in Gowrie.

To see her cousin she cam' there; And oh! the scene was pa.s.sing fair, For what in Scotland can compare Wi' the Ca.r.s.e o' Gowrie?

The sun was setting on the Tay, The blue hills melting into gray, The mavis and the blackbird's lay Were sweetly heard in Gowrie.

O lang the la.s.sie I had wooed, And truth and constancy had vowed, But could nae speed wi' her I lo'ed Until she saw fair Gowrie.

I pointed to my faither's ha'-- Yon bonnie bield ayont the shaw, Sae loun that there nae blast could blaw:-- Wad she no bide in Gowrie?

Her faither was baith glad and wae; Her mither she wad naething say; The bairnies thocht they wad get play If Kitty gaed to Gowrie.

She whiles did smile, she whiles did greet; The blush and tear were on her cheek; She naething said, and hung her head;-- But now she's Leddy Gowrie.

Carolina Nairne [1766-1845]