No other theme to him is dear
Than lofty deeds of thine :
Hush'd be the strain thou canst not hear,
Last of a mighty line.*
WOO'D, AND MARRIED, AND A'.
TUNE-Woo'd, and Married, and a'.
THE 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 bame 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;
*From The Scottish Minstrel, 1824-8.
My gown was linsy-woolsy,
And ne'er a sark ava;
And ye hae 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 hae ta'en ye,
Had he kent ye as weel as I;
For ye're baith proud and saucy,
And no for a poor man's wife;
Gin I canna get a better,
I'se ne'er tak ane i' my life.
Out spake the bride's sister
As she came in frae the byre;
O gin I were but married,
It's a' that I desire:
But we poor folk maun live single,
And do the best that we can;
I dinna care what I shou'd want
If I cou'd get but a man.
*From Herd's Collection, 1776.
WOOED, AND MARRIED, AND A'
MRS SCOTT OF DUMBARTONSHIRE.
THE grass had nae freedom o' growin'
As lang as she wasna awa;
Nor in the toun could there be stowin'
For wooers that wanted to ca'.
Sic boxin', sic brawlin', sic dancin',
Sic bowin' and shakin' a paw;
The toun was for ever in brulyies:
But now the lassie's awa.
Wooed, and married, and a',
Married, and wooed, and a';
The dandalie toast of the parish,
She's wooed, and she's carried awa.
But had he a' kenn'd her as I did,
His wooin' it wad hae been sma':
She kens neither bakin', nor brewin',
Nor cardin', nor spinnin' ava;
But a' her skill lies in her buskin':
And, O, if her braws were awa,
She sune wad wear out o' fashion,
And knit up her huggers wi' straw.
But yesterday I gaed to see her,
And, O, she was bonnie and braw;
She cried on her gudeman to gie her
An ell o' red ribbon or twa.
He took, and he set down beside her
A wheel and a reel for to ca';
She cried, Was he that way to guide her?
And out at the door and awa.
The first road she gaed was her mither,
Wha said, Lassie, how gaes a'?
Quo she, Was it for nae ither
That I was married awa,
But to be set down to a wheelie,
And at it for ever to ca'?
And syne to hae't reel'd by a chieldie
That's everly crying to draw.
Her mither said till her, Hech, lassie !
He's wisest, I fear, o' the twa;
There'll be little to put in the tassie,
Gif ye be sae backward to draw;
For now ye should work like a tiger,
And at it baith wallop and ca',
Sae lang's ye hae youdith and vigour,
And weanies and debt keep awa.
hame to away The mair fule ye e'er came awa: Ye maunna be ilka day gaddin',
Nor gang sae white-finger'd and braw; For now wi' a neebor ye're yokit, And wi' him should cannilie draw; Or else ye deserve to be knockit— So that's an answer for a'.
Young luckie thus fand hersell mither'd,
And wish'd she had ne'er come awa;
At length wi' hersell she consider'd,
That hameward 'twas better to draw,
And e'en tak a chance o' the landin',
However that matters might fa':
Folk maunna on freits aye be standin',
That's wooed, and married, and a'.*
* From Cromek's Select Scottish Songs, 1810.
PRINCE CHARLES AND FLORA MACDONALD'S WELCOME TO SKYE.
SAID TO BE FROM THE GAELIC.
TUNE-Charlie's welcome to Skye.
TERE are two ponny maitens, and tree ponny maitens,
Come over te Minch, and come over te main,
With te wind for teir way, and te corrie for teir hame;
Let us welcome tem pravely unto Skhee akain.
Come along, come along, wit your poatie and your song,
You two ponny maitens, and tree
ponny maitens ;
For te nicht it is dark, and te red-coat is gane,
And you're pravely welcome unto Skhee akain.
Tere is Flora, my honey, so tear and so ponny,
And one that is tall, and comely witall;
Put te one as my khing, and te other as my queen,
Tey're welcome unto te isle of Skhee akain.
Come along, come along, wit your poatie and your song,
You two ponny maitens, and tree ponny maitens;
For te lhady of Macoulain she lieth her lane,
And you're pravely welcome to Skhee akain.
Her arm it is strong, and her petticoat is long,
My one ponny maiten, and two ponny maitens;
Put teir bed shall be clain on te heather most crain;
And tey're welcome unto te isle of Skhee akain.
Come along, come along, wit your poatie and your song,
You one ponny maiten, and two ponny maitens;
Py te sea-moullit's nest I will watch ye ower te main;
And you're tearly welcome to Skhee akain.
Tere's a wind on te tree, and a ship on te sea,
My two ponny maitens, and tree ponny maitens;
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