Page:The poetical works of Robert Burns.djvu/229
This page needs to be proofread.
THE POEMS OF BURNS.
173
FRAGMENTS.
Ye hae lien a' wrang, lassie,
Ye've lien a' wrang;
Ye've lien in an unco bed,
And wi a fremit man.
O ance ye danced upon the knowes
And ance ye lightly sang—
But in herrying o' a bee byke,
I'm rad ye've got a stang.
O gie my love brose, brose,
Gie my love brose and butter;
For nane in Carrick or Kyle
Can please a lassie better.
The lav'rock lo'es the grass,
The muirhen lo'es the heather;
But gie me a braw moonlight,
And me and my love together.
Lass, when your mither is frae hame,
Might I but be sae bauld
As come to your bower-window,
And creep in frae the cauld,
As come to your bower-window,
And when it's cauld and wat,
Warm me in thy sweet bosom;
Fair lass, wilt thou do that?
Ye've lien a' wrang;
Ye've lien in an unco bed,
And wi a fremit man.
O ance ye danced upon the knowes
And ance ye lightly sang—
But in herrying o' a bee byke,
I'm rad ye've got a stang.
O gie my love brose, brose,
Gie my love brose and butter;
For nane in Carrick or Kyle
Can please a lassie better.
The lav'rock lo'es the grass,
The muirhen lo'es the heather;
But gie me a braw moonlight,
And me and my love together.
Lass, when your mither is frae hame,
Might I but be sae bauld
As come to your bower-window,
And creep in frae the cauld,
As come to your bower-window,
And when it's cauld and wat,
Warm me in thy sweet bosom;
Fair lass, wilt thou do that?
Young man, gif ye should be sae kind,
When our gudewife's frae hame,
As come to my bower-window,
Whare I am laid my lane,
And warm thee in my bosom
But I will tell thee what,
The way to me lies through the kirk;
Young man, do ye hear that?
I met a lass, a bonie lass,
Coming o'er the braes o' Couper,
Bare her leg and bright her een,
And handsome ilka bit about her.
Weel I wat she was a quean
Wad made a body's mouth to water;
Our Mess John, wi' his lyart pow,
His haly lips wad lickit at her.
O wat ye what my minnie did,
My minnie did, my minnie did,
O wat ye what my minnie did,
On Tysday 'teen to me, jo?
She laid me in a saft bed,
A saft bed, a saft bed,
She laid me in a saft bed,
And bade gudeen to me, jo.
When our gudewife's frae hame,
As come to my bower-window,
Whare I am laid my lane,
And warm thee in my bosom
But I will tell thee what,
The way to me lies through the kirk;
Young man, do ye hear that?
I met a lass, a bonie lass,
Coming o'er the braes o' Couper,
Bare her leg and bright her een,
And handsome ilka bit about her.
Weel I wat she was a quean
Wad made a body's mouth to water;
Our Mess John, wi' his lyart pow,
His haly lips wad lickit at her.
O wat ye what my minnie did,
My minnie did, my minnie did,
O wat ye what my minnie did,
On Tysday 'teen to me, jo?
She laid me in a saft bed,
A saft bed, a saft bed,
She laid me in a saft bed,
And bade gudeen to me, jo.
An' wat ye what the parson did,
The parson did, the parson did,
An' wat ye what the parson did,
A' for a penny fee, jo?
He loosed on me a lang man,
A mickle man, a strang man,
He loosed on me a lang man,
That might hae worried me, jo.
The parson did, the parson did,
An' wat ye what the parson did,
A' for a penny fee, jo?
He loosed on me a lang man,
A mickle man, a strang man,
He loosed on me a lang man,
That might hae worried me, jo.
An' I was but a young thing,
A young thing, a young thing,
An' I was but a young thing,
Wi' nane to pity me, jo.
I wat the kirk was in the wyte,
In the wyte, in the wyte,
To pit a young thing in a fright,
An' loose a man on me, jo.
O can ye labour lea, young man,
Gae back the gate ye cam' again,
An' can ye labour lea;
Ye'se never scorn me.
A young thing, a young thing,
An' I was but a young thing,
Wi' nane to pity me, jo.
I wat the kirk was in the wyte,
In the wyte, in the wyte,
To pit a young thing in a fright,
An' loose a man on me, jo.
O can ye labour lea, young man,
Gae back the gate ye cam' again,
An' can ye labour lea;
Ye'se never scorn me.
I feed a man at Martinmas,
Wi' arle pennies three;
An' a' the faut I fan' wi' him,
He couldna labour lea.
Wi' arle pennies three;
An' a' the faut I fan' wi' him,
He couldna labour lea.
The stibble rig is easy plough'd,
The fallow land is free;
But wha wad keep the handless coof,
That couldna labour lea?
Jenny M'Craw, she has ta'en to the heather,
Say, was it the covenant carried her thither;
The fallow land is free;
But wha wad keep the handless coof,
That couldna labour lea?
Jenny M'Craw, she has ta'en to the heather,
Say, was it the covenant carried her thither;