What's this now, gudewife, O how came this sword here Without the leave o' me? A sword! quo' she,-aye, a sword! quo' he. And blinder may ye see, My mither sent to me. A spurtle! quo' he,—aye, a spurtle! quo' she. Far hae I ridden, love, And meikle hae I seen, But silver hilted spurtles Saw I never nane. Our gudeman came hame at e'en, And hame came he, And there he spied a powdered wig Where nae wig should be: What's this now, gudewife, What's this I see? How came this wig here Without the leave o' me? A wig! quo' she,-aye, a wig! quo' he. And waur may ye see, 'Tis naething but a clocking-hen My mither sent to me. A clocking-hen! quo' he,-aye, a clocking-hen! quo' she. Far hae I ridden, And meikle hae I seen, But powder on a clocking-hen Saw I never nane. Our gudeman came hame at e'en, And there he saw a meikle coat Where nae coat should be: And how came this coat here, How can this be? O how came this coat here Without the leave o' me? A coat! quo' she,-aye, a coat! quo' he. My mither sent to me. Blankets! quo' he,—aye, blankets! quo' she. Far hae I ridden, And meikle hae I seen; But buttons upon blankets Saw I never nane. Ben gaed our gudeman, And there he spied a sturdy man Where nae man should be. How came this man here? How can this be? How came this man here Without the leave o' me? A man! quo' she,-aye, a man! quo' he. And blinder may ye be; It's but a new milkin maid My mither sent to me. A maid! quo' he,-aye, a maid! quo' she. Far hae I ridden, love, [From Herd's Collection, 1776.] HOW CAN I BE BLITHE. How can I be blithe and glad, I dare but wish for thee, my love, In the chamber where my love's in! DUMBARTON'S DRUMS. Dumbarton's drums beat bonnie-o, When my soldier is by, While he kisses and blesses his Annie-o! 'Tis a soldier alone can delight me-o, For his graceful looks do invite me-o: While guarded in his arms, I'll fear no war's alarms, Neither danger nor death shall e'er fright me-o. My love is a handsome laddie-o, Though commissions are dear, Yet I'll buy him one this year; For he shall serve no longer a cadie-o. A soldier has honour and bravery-o, Unacquainted with rogues and their knavery-o; He minds no other thing But the ladies or his king; For every other care is but slavery-o. Then I'll be the captain's lady-o; But I'll follow with the drum, Dumbarton's drums sound bonnie-o, When on my soldier's knee, And he kisses and blesses his Annie-o! [From the Tea Table Miscellany, 1724.] JOHN HAY'S BONNY LASSIE. By smooth winding Tay a swain was reclining, To my bonny Hay that I am her lover! Nae mair it will hide, the flame waxes stranger; She's fresh as the Spring, and sweet as Aurora, But if she appear where verdure invites her, The fountains run clear, and flowers smell the sweeter; 'Tis heaven to be by when her wit is a-flowing, Her smiles and bright eye set my spirits a-glowing. |