Poems And Songs Of Robert Burns Part 108

Tune--"Jack o' Latin."

Gat ye me, O gat ye me, O gat ye me wi' naething?

Rock an reel, and spinning wheel, A mickle quarter basin: Bye attour my Gutcher has A heich house and a laich ane, A' forbye my bonie sel, The toss o' Ecclefechan.

O haud your tongue now, Lucky Lang, O haud your tongue and jauner I held the gate till you I met, Syne I began to wander: I tint my whistle and my sang, I tint my peace and pleasure; But your green graff, now Lucky Lang, Wad airt me to my treasure.

O Let Me In Thes Ae Night

O La.s.sie, are ye sleepin yet, Or are ye waukin, I wad wit?

For Love has bound me hand an' fit, And I would fain be in, jo.

Chorus--O let me in this ae night, This ae, ae, ae night; O let me in this ae night, I'll no come back again, jo!

O hear'st thou not the wind an' weet?

Nae star blinks thro' the driving sleet; Tak pity on my weary feet, And s.h.i.+eld me frae the rain, jo.

O let me in, &c.

The bitter blast that round me blaws, Unheeded howls, unheeded fa's; The cauldness o' thy heart's the cause Of a' my care and pine, jo.

O let me in, &c.

Her Answer

O tell na me o' wind an' rain, Upbraid na me wi' cauld disdain, Gae back the gate ye cam again, I winna let ye in, jo.

Chorus--I tell you now this ae night, This ae, ae, ae night; And ance for a' this ae night, I winna let ye in, jo.

The snellest blast, at mirkest hours, That round the pathless wand'rer pours Is nocht to what poor she endures, That's trusted faithless man, jo.

I tell you now, &c.

The sweetest flower that deck'd the mead, Now trodden like the vilest weed-- Let simple maid the lesson read The weird may be her ain, jo.

I tell you now, &c.

The bird that charm'd his summer day, Is now the cruel Fowler's prey; Let witless, trusting, Woman say How aft her fate's the same, jo!

I tell you now, &c.

I'll Aye Ca' In By Yon Town

Air--"I'll gang nae mair to yon toun."

Chorus--I'll aye ca' in by yon town, And by yon garden-green again; I'll aye ca' in by yon town, And see my bonie Jean again.

There's nane sall ken, there's nane can guess What brings me back the gate again, But she, my fairest faithfu' la.s.s, And stownlins we sall meet again.

I'll aye ca' in, &c.

She'll wander by the aiken tree, When trystin time draws near again; And when her lovely form I see, O haith! she's doubly dear again.

I'll aye ca' in, &c.

O Wat Ye Wha's In Yon Town

Tune--"I'll gang nae mair to yon toun."

Chorus--O wat ye wha's in yon town, Ye see the e'enin sun upon, The dearest maid's in yon town, That e'ening sun is s.h.i.+ning on.

Now haply down yon gay green shaw, She wanders by yon spreading tree; How blest ye flowers that round her blaw, Ye catch the glances o' her e'e!

O wat ye wha's, &c.

How blest ye birds that round her sing, And welcome in the blooming year; And doubly welcome be the Spring, The season to my Jeanie dear.

O wat ye wha's, &c.

The sun blinks blythe on yon town, Among the broomy braes sae green; But my delight in yon town, And dearest pleasure, is my Jean.

O wat ye wha's, &c.

Without my Fair, not a' the charms O' Paradise could yield me joy; But give me Jeanie in my arms And welcome Lapland's dreary sky!

O wat ye wha's, &c.

My cave wad be a lover's bower, Tho' raging Winter rent the air; And she a lovely little flower, That I wad tent and shelter there.

O wat ye wha's, &c.

O sweet is she in yon town, The sinkin, sun's gane down upon; A fairer than's in yon town, His setting beam ne'er shone upon.

O wat ye wha's, &c.

If angry Fate is sworn my foe, And suff'ring I am doom'd to bear; I careless quit aught else below, But spare, O spare me Jeanie dear.

O wat ye wha's, &c.

For while life's dearest blood is warm, Ae thought frae her shall ne'er depart, And she, as fairest is her form, She has the truest, kindest heart.

O wat ye wha's, &c.

Ballads on Mr. Heron's Election, 1795

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