Songs of Angus and More Songs of Angus | Page 6

droukit wi' your tears!"
There blew across my outstreeked hand?The white mist o' her sark,?But I couldna reach yon babie band?For it faded i' the dark.
My ain, my dear, your licht shall burn?Although my een grow blind,?Although they twa to saut should turn?Wi' the tears that lie behind.
O Jeanie, on my bended knee?I'll pray I may forget,?My grief is a' that's left to me,?But there's something dearer yet!
THE LAD I' THE MUNE
I
O gin I lived i' the gowden mune?Like the mannie that smiles at me,?I'd sit a' nicht in my hoose abune?An the wee-bit stars they wad ken me sune,?For I'd sup my brose wi' a gowden spune?And they wad come out to see!
II
For weel I ken that the mune's his ain?And he is the maister there;?A' nicht he's lauchin', for, fegs, there's nane?To draw the blind on his windy-pane?And tak' an' bed him, to lie his lane?And pleasure himsel' nae mair.
III
Says I to Grannie, "Keek up the glen?Abune by the rodden tree,?There's a braw lad 'yont i' the mune, ye ken."?Says she, "Awa' wi' ye, bairn, gang ben,?For noo it's little I fash wi' men?An' it's less that they fash wi' me!"
IV
When I'm as big as the tinkler-man?That sings i' the loan a' day,?I'll bide wi' him i' the tinkler-van?Wi' a wee-bit pot an' a wee-bit pan;?But I'll no tell Grannie my bonnie plan,?For I dinna ken what she'll say.
V
And, nicht by nicht, we will a' convene?And we'll be a cantie three;?We'll lauch an' crack i' the loanin' green,?The kindest billies that ever was seen,?The tinkler-man wi' his twinklin' een?And the lad i' the mune an' me!
THE GOWK
I see the Gowk an' the Gowk sees me?Beside a berry-bush by the aipple-tree.
Old Scots Rhyme.
'Tib, my auntie's a deil to wark,?Has me risin' 'afore the sun;?Aince her heid is abune her sark?Then the clash o' her tongue's begun!?Warslin', steerin' wi' hens an' swine,?Naucht kens she o' a freend o' mine--?But the Gowk that bides i' the woods o' Dun
He kens him fine!
Past the yaird an' ahint the stye,?O the aipples grow bonnilie!?Tib, my auntie, she canna' spy?Wha comes creepin' to kep wi' me.?Aye! she'd sort him, for, dod, she's fell!?Whisht nou, Jimmie, an' hide yersel'?An' the wice-like bird i' the aipple-tree
He winna' tell!
Aprile-month, or the aipples flower,?Tib, my auntie, will rage an' ca';?Jimmie lad, she may rin an' glower--?What care I? We'll be far awa'!?Let her seek me the leelang day,?Wha's to tell her the road we'll gae??For the cannie Gowk, tho' he kens it a',
He winna' say!
THE JACOBITE LASS
My love stood at the loanin' side?An' held me by the hand,?The bonniest lad that e'er did bide?In a' this waefu' land--?There's but ae bonnier to be seen?Frae Pentland to the sea,?And for his sake but yestre'en?I sent my love frae me.
I gi'ed my love the white white rose?That's at my feyther's wa',?It is the bonniest flower that grows?Whaur ilka flower is braw;?There's but ae bonnier that I ken?Frae Perth unto the main,?An' that's the flower o' Scotland's men?That's fechtin' for his ain.
Gin I had kept whate'er was mine?As I hae gie'd my best,?My he'rt were licht by day, and syne?The nicht wad bring me rest;?There is nae heavier he'rt to find?Frae Forfar toon to Ayr,?As aye I sit me doon to mind?On him I see nae mair.
Lad, gin ye fa' by Chairlie's side?To rid this land o' shame,?There winna be a prooder bride?Than her ye left at hame,?But I will seek ye whaur ye sleep?Frae lawlands to the peat,?An ilka nicht at mirk I'll creep?To lay me at yer feet.
MAGGIE
Maggie, I ken that ye are happ'd in glory?And nane can gar ye greet;?The joys o' Heaven are evermair afore ye,?It's licht about yer feet.
I ken nae waefu' thochts can e'er be near ye?Nor sorrow fash yer mind,?In yon braw place they winna let ye weary?For him ye left behind.
Thae nichts an' days when dule seems mair nor double?I'll need to dae my best,?For aye ye took the half o' ilka trouble,?And noo I'd hae ye rest.
Yer he'rt'll be the same he'rt since yer flittin',?Gin auld love doesna tire,?Sae dinna look an' see yer lad that's sittin'?His lane aside the fire.
The sky is keen wi' dancin' stars in plenty,?The New Year frost is strang;?But, O my lass! because the Auld Year kent ye?I'm sweir to let it gang!
But time drives forrit; and on ilk December?There waits a New Year yet,?An naething bides but what our he'rts remember--?Maggie, ye'll na forget?
THE WHUSTLIN' LAD
There's a wind comes doon frae the braes when the licht is spreadin' Chilly an' grey,?An' the auld cock craws at the yett o' the muirland steadin' Cryin' on day;?The hoose lies sound an' the sma' mune's deein' an' weary?Watchin' her lane,?The shadows creep by the dyke an' the time seems eerie,?But the lad i' the fields he is whustlin' cheery, cheery,?'Yont