Get up, gudeman, save Crummie's life, And tak auld cloak about ye.

your

My Crummie is a usefu' cow,
And she is come of a good kin';
Aft has she wet the bairns's mou’,
And I am laith that she should tyne ;
Get up, gudeman, it is fu' time,

The sun shines frae the lift sae hie;
Sloth never made a gracious end;
Gae, tak your auld cloak about ye.

My cloak was ance a gude grey cloak,
When it was fitting for my wear;
But now it's scantly worth a groat,
For I have worn't this thretty year:
Let's spend the gear that we hae won,
We little ken the day we'll die;
Then I'll be proud, since I have sworn
To hae a new cloak about me.

In days when our King Robert rang,
His trews they cost but half a croun;
He said they were a groat ower dear,
And ca'd the tailor thief and loon :
He was the king that wore a croun,
And thou the man of laigh degree:
It's pride puts a' the country doun;
Sae tak thy auld cloak about ye.

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
Sin' we did ane anither ken;
And we hae had atween us twa

Of lads and bonnie lasses ten:
Now they are women grown and men,
I wish and pray weel may they be;
you would prove a gude husband,
E'en tak your auld cloak about ye.

If

Bell, my wife, she loes nae strife,
But she would guide me, if she can ;
And, to maintain an easy life,

I aft maun yield, though I'm gudeman :
Nocht's to be gain'd at woman's hand,
Unless ye gie her a' the plea;
Then I'll leave aff where I began,

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;
Our kirn was gaun, our cheese was making,
And bannocks on the girdle baking;

That ane at the door chapt loud and lang.
But the auld gudewife and her Mays sae ticht
Of this stirring and din took sma' notice, I ween;
For a chap at the door in braid day-light,

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,
And his bare lyart pow he smoothly straikit,
And lookit about, like a body half glaikit,
On bonny sweet Nanny, the youngest of a'.
Ha, ha! quo' the carline; and look
ye that way?
Hoot! let nae sic fancies bewilder ye clean;
An elderlin man, in the noon o' the day,
Should be wiser than youngsters that come at e'en.

Na, na! quo' the pauky auld wife, I trow,
You'll fash na your head wi' a youthfu' gilly,
As wild and as skeigh as a muirland filly;
Black Madge is far better and fitter for you.

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?-
She's eident and sober; has sense in her noddle;
Is douse and respeckit.—I care na a bodle !
I'll baulk na my luve, and my fancy's free.
Madge toss'd back her head wi' a saucy slicht,
And Nanny ran laughing out to the green:

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,
For a' his loud banning cared little, I ween;
For a wooer that comes in braid day licht,
Is no like a wooer that comes at e'en.

JOCKIE'S TA'EN THE PARTING KISS.

BURNS.

JOCKIE's ta'en the parting kiss,
Ower the mountains he is gane;
And with him is a' my bliss:
;

Nought but griefs wi' me remain.
Spare my love, ye winds that blaw,
Plashy sleets, and beating rain!
Spare my love, thou feathery snaw,
Drifting o'er the frozen plain !

When the shades of evening creep
Ower the day's fair gladsome ee,
Sound and safely may he sleep,
Sweetly blythe his waukening be!
He will think on her he loves,
Fondly he'll repeat her name;
For, where'er he distant roves,
Jockie's heart is still at hame.

I'LL NEVER LAY A' MY LOVE UPON ANE.

I COULDNA get sleep yestreen for greetin',
The tears ran down like showers o' rain;
Gin I hadna got grutten, my heart wad hae luppen:
And I'll never lay a' my love upon ane.*

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;
And Jenny put on her best array,

When she heard Jocky was come that way.

Jenny she gaed up the stair,

Sae privily, to change her smock,
And aye sae loud as her mother did rair,
Hey, Jenny, come down to Jock!

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 braw houses twa or three;

And I will gie them a' to thee.
Ahaith! quo Jenny, I fear ye

mock.

* Taken down from recitation.