Get up, gudeman, save Crummie's life, And tak auld cloak about ye. your My Crummie is a usefu' cow, The sun shines frae the lift sae hie; My cloak was ance a gude grey cloak, In days when our King Robert rang, Ilka land has its ain lauch, Ilk kind o' corn has its ain hool; I think the world is a' gane wrang, When ilka wife her man wad rule: Do ye no see Rob, Jock, and Hab, As they are girded gallantlie, While I sit hurklin i' the asse ? I'll hae a new cloak about me. Gudeman, I wat it's thretty year Of lads and bonnie lasses ten: If Bell, my wife, she loes nae strife, I aft maun yield, though I'm gudeman : And tak my auld cloak about me. THE WOOER THAT COMES AT E'EN. JOANNA BAILLIE. It fell on a morning, when we were thrang; That ane at the door chapt loud and lang. Is no like a chap when heard at e'en. Then the clocksey auld laird of the Warlock Glen, Wha stood without, half cow'd, half cheerie, From the Tea-Table Miscellany, 1724. This excellent old song, however, was probably written before the close of the sixteenth century; as its measure and versification unequivocally belong to that period. It is needless to remind the reader, moreover, that the first part of the fourth stanza is quoted by Shakspeare in Othello, which was published in 1611. And yearn'd for a sight o' his winsome dearie, Raised up the latch, and cam crousely ben. His coat was new, and his owerlay was white, And his hose and his mittens were cosey and bien: But a wooer that comes in braid day-licht, Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en. He greeted the carlin and lasses sae braw, Na, na! quo' the pauky auld wife, I trow, He hemm'd, and he haw'd, and he screw'd in his mouth, And he squeezed his blue bonnet his twa hands between ; For wooers that come when the sun's in the south, Are mair aukwart than wooers that come at e'en. Black Madge, she is prudent.-What's that to me?- For wooers that come when the sun shines bricht, Are no like the wooers that come at e'en. Awa' flung the laird, and loud mutter'd he, All the daughters of Eve between Orkney and Tweed, O, Black and fair, young and old, dame, damsel, and widow, May gang in their pride to the deil for me! But the auld gudewife, and her Mays sae ticht, JOCKIE'S TA'EN THE PARTING KISS. BURNS. JOCKIE's ta'en the parting kiss, Nought but griefs wi' me remain. When the shades of evening creep I'LL NEVER LAY A' MY LOVE UPON ANE. I COULDNA get sleep yestreen for greetin', HEY, JENNY, COME DOWN TO JOCK! TUNE-Hey, Jenny, come down to Jock! JOCKY he came here to woo, On ae feast-day, when we were fou; When she heard Jocky was come that way. Jenny she gaed up the stair, Sae privily, to change her smock, Jenny she cam' down the stair, And she cam' bobbin and beckin ben; Her stays they were laced, and fu' jimp was her waist, And a braw new-made manko gown. Jocky took her by the hand: Says, Jenny, lass, can ye fancy me? My father is dead, and has left me some land, And I will gie them a' to thee. mock. * Taken down from recitation. |