Poems And Songs Of Robert Burns Part 110

And there led I the Bushby clan, My gamesome billie, Will, And my son Maitland, wise as brave, My footsteps follow'd still.

The Douglas and the Heron's name, We set nought to their score; The Douglas and the Heron's name, Had felt our weight before.

But Dougla.s.ses o' weight had we, The pair o' l.u.s.ty lairds, For building cot-houses sae fam'd, And christenin' kail-yards.

And there Redcastle drew his sword, That ne'er was stain'd wi' gore, Save on a wand'rer lame and blind, To drive him frae his door.

And last cam creepin' Collieston, Was mair in fear than wrath; Ae knave was constant in his mind-- To keep that knave frae scaith.

Inscription For An Altar Of Independence

At Kerroughtree, the Seat of Mr. Heron.

Thou of an independent mind, With soul resolv'd, with soul resign'd; Prepar'd Power's proudest frown to brave, Who wilt not be, nor have a slave; Virtue alone who dost revere, Thy own reproach alone dost fear-- Approach this shrine, and wors.h.i.+p here.

The Cardin O't, The Spinnin O't

I coft a stane o' haslock woo', To mak a wab to Johnie o't; For Johnie is my only jo, I loe him best of onie yet.

Chorus--The cardin' o't, the spinnin' o't, The warpin' o't, the winnin' o't; When ilka ell cost me a groat, The tailor staw the lynin' o't.

For tho' his locks be lyart grey, And tho' his brow be beld aboon, Yet I hae seen him on a day, The pride of a' the parishen.

The cardin o't, &c.

The Cooper O' Cuddy

Tune--"Bab at the bowster."

Chorus--We'll hide the Cooper behint the door, Behint the door, behint the door, We'll hide the Cooper behint the door, And cover him under a mawn, O.

The Cooper o' Cuddy came here awa, He ca'd the girrs out o'er us a'; An' our gudewife has gotten a ca', That's anger'd the silly gudeman O.

We'll hide the Cooper, &c.

He sought them out, he sought them in, Wi' deil hae her! an', deil hae him!

But the body he was sae doited and blin', He wist na where he was gaun O.

We'll hide the Cooper, &c.

They cooper'd at e'en, they cooper'd at morn, Till our gudeman has gotten the scorn; On ilka brow she's planted a horn, And swears that there they sall stan' O.

We'll hide the Cooper, &c.

The La.s.s That Made The Bed To Me

When Januar' wind was blawing cauld, As to the north I took my way, The mirksome night did me enfauld, I knew na where to lodge till day:

By my gude luck a maid I met, Just in the middle o' my care, And kindly she did me invite To walk into a chamber fair.

I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, And thank'd her for her courtesie; I bow'd fu' low unto this maid, An' bade her make a bed to me;

She made the bed baith large and wide, Wi' twa white hands she spread it doun; She put the cup to her rosy lips, And drank--"Young man, now sleep ye soun'."

Chorus--The bonie la.s.s made the bed to me, The braw la.s.s made the bed to me, I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, The la.s.s that made the bed to me.

She s.n.a.t.c.h'd the candle in her hand, And frae my chamber went wi' speed; But I call'd her quickly back again, To lay some mair below my head:

A cod she laid below my head, And served me with due respect, And, to salute her wi' a kiss, I put my arms about her neck.

The bonie la.s.s, &c.

"Haud aff your hands, young man!" she said, "And dinna sae uncivil be; Gif ye hae ony luve for me, O wrang na my virginitie."

Her hair was like the links o' gowd, Her teeth were like the ivorie, Her cheeks like lilies dipt in wine, The la.s.s that made the bed to me: The bonie la.s.s, &c.

Her bosom was the driven snaw, Twa drifted heaps sae fair to see; Her limbs the polish'd marble stane, The la.s.s that made the bed to me.

I kiss'd her o'er and o'er again, And aye she wist na what to say: I laid her 'tween me and the wa'; The la.s.sie thocht na lang till day.

The bonie la.s.s, &c.

Upon the morrow when we raise, I thank'd her for her courtesie; But aye she blush'd and aye she sigh'd, And said, "Alas, ye've ruin'd me."

I claps'd her waist, and kiss'd her syne, While the tear stood twinkling in her e'e; I said, my la.s.sie, dinna cry.

For ye aye shall make the bed to me.

The bonie la.s.s, &c.

She took her mither's holland sheets, An' made them a' in sarks to me; Blythe and merry may she be, The la.s.s that made the bed to me.

Chorus--The bonie la.s.s made the bed to me, The braw la.s.s made the bed to me.

I'll ne'er forget till the day I die, The la.s.s that made the bed to me.

Had I The Wyte? She Bade Me

Had I the wyte, had I the wyte, Had I the wyte? she bade me; She watch'd me by the hie-gate side, And up the loan she shaw'd me.

And when I wadna venture in, A coward loon she ca'd me: Had Kirk an' State been in the gate, I'd lighted when she bade me.

Sae craftilie she took me ben, And bade me mak nae clatter; "For our ramgunshoch, glum gudeman Is o'er ayont the water."