He gain'd my heart in twa three weeks,
He spake sae blythe and kindly, O;
And I made him new gray breeks,
That fitted him most finely, O.
He was a handsome fellow;
His humour was baith frank and free; His bonnie locks sae yellow,
Like gowd they glitter'd in my ee: His dimpled chin and rosy cheeks, And face sae fair and ruddy, O; And then-a-days his gray breeks Were neither auld nor duddy, O.
But now they're threadbare worn,
They're wider than they wont to be;
They're tash'd-like and sair torn,
And clouted upon ilka knee.
But gin I had a simmer's day,
As I hae had right monie, O,
I'd make a web o' new gray,
To be breeks to my Johnie, O.
For he's weel wordy o' them,
And better, gin I had to gie,
And I'll tak pains upo' them,
Frae faults I'll strive to keep them free.
To cleid him weel shall be my care,
To please him a' my study, O!
But he maun wear the auld pair
A wee, though they be duddy, O.
For when the lad was in his prime,
Like him there warna monie, O.
He ca'd me aye his bonnie thing,
Sae wha wadna loe Johnie, O?
O, I loe Johnie's gray breeks,
For a' the care they've gi'en me yet,
And gin we live another
year,
We'll mak them hale between us yet.
TUNE-And sae will we yet.
ye doun here, my cronies, and gie us your crack;
Let the win' tak the care o' this life on its back.
Our hearts to despondency we never will submit ;
For we've aye been provided for, and sae will we yet.
And sae will we yet, and sae will we yet,
And sae will we yet, and sae will we yet;
Our hearts to despondency we never will submit,
For we've aye been provided for, and sae will we yet.
Let the miser delight in the hoarding of pelf,
Since he has not the saul to enjoy it himself;
Since the bounty of Providence is new every day,
As we journey through life, let us live by the way.
Let us live by the way, &c.
Then bring us a tankard o' nappy gude ale,
For to comfort our hearts, and enliven the tale;
We'll aye be the happier the langer we sit ;
For we've drank thegither monie a time, and sae will we yet.
Success to the farmer, and prosper his plough,
Rewarding his eident toils a' the year through!
Our seed-time and harvest, we ever will get;
And we've lippen'd aye to Providence, and sae will
we yet.
Long live the king, and happy may he be;
And success to his forces by land and by sea!
His enemies to triumph we never will permit;
Britons aye have been victorious, and sae will we yet.
And sae will we yet, &c.
Let the glass keep its course, and go merrily roun';
For the sun has to rise, though the moon it goes down:
Till the house be rinnin' roun' about, it's time enough to flit ;
When we fell we aye got up again, and sae will we yet. And sae will we yet, &c.
TUNE-Dainty Davie.
Now rosy May comes in wi' flowers,
To deck her gay green birken bowers,
And now come in my happy hours,
To wander wi' my Davie.
Meet me on the warlock knowe,
Dainty Davie, dainty Davie ;
There I'll spend the day wi' you,
My ain dear dainty Davie.
The crystal waters round us fa',
merry birds are lovers a',
The scented breezes round us blaw,
A-wandering wi' my Davie.
When purple morning starts the hare,
To steal upon her early fare,
Then through the dews I will repair,
To meet my faithfu' Davie.
When day, expiring in the west,
The curtain draws o' Nature's rest,
I'll flee to his arms I loe best,
And that's my dainty Davie.
OH, WERT THOU IN THE CAULD BLAST.
OH, wert thou in the cauld blast,
On yonder lea, on yonder lea;
My plaidie to the angry airt,
I'd shelter thee, I'd shelter thee:
Or did misfortune's bitter storms
Around thee blaw, around thee blaw,
Thy bield should be my bosom,
To share it a', to share it a'.
Or were I in the wildest waste,
Sae black and bare, sae black and bare,
The desert were a paradise,
If thou wert there, if thou wert there.
Or were I monarch of the globe,
With thee to reign, with thee to reign;
The brightest jewel in my crown
Wad be my queen, wad be my queen.
SHOULD auld acquaintance be forgot,
And never brought to min'?
Should auld acquaintance be forgot,
And days o' lang syne
?
For auld lang syne, my dear,
For auld lang syne,
We'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
We twa hae run about the braes,
And pu'd the gowans fine;
But we've wander'd mony a weary fit,
Sin' auld lang syne.
We twa hae paidl't in the burn,
Frae morning sun till dine;
But seas between us braid hae roar'd,
Sin' auld lang syne.
And there's a hand, my trusty frien',
And gie's a hand o' thine;
And we'll tak a richt gude-willie waught,
For auld lang syne.
And surely ye'll be your pint-stoup,
And surely I'll be mine;
And we'll tak a cup o' kindness yet,
For auld lang syne.
SHOULD old acquaintance be forgot,
And never thought upon,
The flames of love extinguished,
And freely past and gone?
Is thy kind heart now grown so cold
In that loving breast of thine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On old long syne?
Where are thy protestations,
Thy vows, and oaths, my dear,
Thou mad'st to me and I to thee,
In register yet clear?
Is faith and truth so violate
To th' immortal gods divine,
That thou canst never once reflect
On old long syne?
Is't Cupid's fears, or frosty cares,
That make thy spirits decay?
Or is't some object of more worth
That's stolen thy heart away?
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