Tak thir for my part of the feast,
It is well knawin I am well bodin:
Ye need not fay my part is leaft,
Wer they as meikle as they'r lodin.
The wife fpeer'd gin the kail were fodin,
When we have done, tak háme the brok;
The roft was teugh as raploch hodin,
With which they feafted Jenny and Jock.
To the tune of, A rock and a wee pickle tow.
Have a green purse and a wee pickle gowd,
A bonny piece land and planting on't,
It fattens my flocks, and my bairns it has ftow'd;
But the best thing of a's yet wanting on't;
To grace it, and trace it,
And gie me delight;
To bless me, and kiss me,
And comfort my fight,
With beauty by day, and kindness by night,
And nae mair my lane gang faunt'ring on't.
My Chrifty fhe's charming and good as fhe's fair;
Her een and her mouth arc inchanting fweet,
She fmiles me on fire, her frowns gie despair:
I love while my heart gaes panting wi't.
Thou faireft, and deareft,
Delight of my mind,
Whofe gracious embraces
By heaven were defign'd
For happieft tranfports, and bleffes refin'd,
Nae langer delay thy granting fweet.
For thee, bonny Chrifty, my fhepherds and hinds,
Shall carefully make the year's dainties thine:
Thus freed frae laigh care, while love fills our minds,
Our days fhall with pleasure and plenty shine.
Then hear me, and chear me
With fmiling confent,
Believe me, and give me
No caufe to lament,
Since I ne'er can be happy, till thou fay, Content,
I'm pleas'd with my Jamie, and he fall be mine.
Ltho' I be but a country-lafs, Yet a lofty mind I bear And think myfell as good as thofe That rich apparel wear
Altho' my gown be hame-fpun grey,
My fkin it is as faft
As them that fatin weeds do wear,
And carry their heads aloft
What tho' I keep my father's fheep,
The thing that must be done 0,
With garlands of the fineft flowers,
To hade me frae the fun
When they are feeding pleafantly,
Where grafs and flowers do fpring
*Then on a flowery bank at noon,
1 fet me down and fing —O.
My Pailly piggy, cork'd with fage,
Contains my drink but thin — 0;
No wines do e'er my brains enrage,
Or tempt my mind to fin -0.
My country-curds, and wooden spoon,
I think them unco fine
And on a flowery bank at noon,
I fet me down and dine
Altho' my parents cannot raise
Great bags of fhining gold
Like them whase daughters, now a-days,
Like fwine are bought and fold
And for twice fifty thousand crowns,
I value not a prin — O.
Then we'll embrace, and sweetly kiss,
Repeating tales of love - O.
Waly, waly, gin Love be bonny.
Waly, waly up the bank,
And waly, waly down the brae,
And waly, waly yon burn-fide,
Where I and my love wont to gae,
I lean'd my back unto an aik,
I thought it was a trufty tree,
But firft it bow'd, and fyne it brak,
Sae my true love did lightly me.
O waly, waly, but love be bonny,
A little time while it is new,
But when 'tis auld, it waxeth cauld,
And fades away like the morning-dew.
O wherefore fhould I bufk my
head?
Or wherefore fhou'd I kame my hair?
For my true love has me forfook,
And says he'll never love me mair,
Now Arthur-Seat shall be my bed,
The sheets fhall-ne'er be fyl'd by me, Saint Anton's well shall be my drink,
Since my true love has forsaken me.
Martinmas wind, when wilt thou blaw,
And shake the green leaves of the tree?
O gentle death, when wilt thou come ?
For of my life I am weary.
"Tis not the froft that freezes fell,
Nor blawing fnaw's inclemency:
'Tis not fic cauld that makes me cry,
But my love's heart grown cauld to me.
When we came in by Glasgow town,
We were a comely fight to fee;
My love was clad in the black velvet,
And I myfell in cramafie.
But had I wift before I kiss'd,
That love had been fae ill to win,
I'd lock'd my heart in a cafe of gold,
And pinn'd it with a filver pin.
Oh, oh! if my young babe were born,
And fet upon the nurfe's knee,
And I myfell were dead and gane,
For a maid again I'll never be.
The loving Lafs and Spinning-Wheel.
SI fat at my spinning-wheel,
A bonny lad was paffing by :
I view'd him round, and lik'd him weel,
For trouth he had a glancing eye.
My heart new panting 'gan to feel,
But ftill I turned my spinning-wheel.
With looks all kindness he drew near,
And still mair lovely did appear;
And round about my flender wafte
He clafp'd his arms, and me embrac'd: To kifs my hand, fyne down did kneel, As I fat at my fpinning-wheel.
My milk-white hands he did extol,
And prais'd my fingers lang and small,
And faid, there was nae lady fair
That ever cou'd with me compare.
These words into my heart did fteal,
But ftill I turn'd my fpinning-wheel..
Altho' I feemingly did chide,
Yet he wad never be deny'd,'
But ftill declar'd his love the mair,'
Until my heart was wounded fair:
That I my love cou'd fcarce conceal
Yet ftill I turn'd my spinning-wheel.
My hanks of yarn, my rock and reel,
My winnels and my fpinning-wheel;
He bid me leave them all with speed,
And gang with him to yonder mead.
My yielding heart ftrange flames did feel,
Yet ftill I turn'd my fpinning-wheel.
About my neck his arr
And whifper'd, Rife, my bonny maid,
And with me to yon hay-cock go, ́
I'll teach thee better wark to do..
In trouth I loo'd the motion weel,
And loot alane my spinning-wheel.
Amang the pleafant cocks of hay,
Then with my bonny lad I lay;
What laffie, young and faft as I,
Cou'd fic a handfome lad deny ?
These pleasures I cannot reveal,
That far furpat the fpinning-wheel.
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