The Home Book of Verse Volume Ii Part 66

"BEHAVE YOURSEL' BEFORE FOLK"

Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk, And dinna be sae rude to me, As kiss me sae before folk.

It wadna gi'e me meikle pain, Gin we were seen and heard by nane, To tak' a kiss, or grant you ane; But guidsake! no before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk; Whate'er ye do, when out o' view, Be cautious aye before folk.

Consider, lad, how folk will crack, And what a great affair they'll mak'

O' naething but a simple smack, That's gi'en or ta'en before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; Nor gi'e the tongue o' auld or young Occasion to come o'er folk.

It's no through hatred o' a kiss, That I sae plainly tell you this; But, los.h.!.+ I tak' it sair amiss To be sae teased before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; When we're our lane ye may tak' ane, But fient a ane before folk.

I'm sure wi' you I've been as free As ony modest la.s.s should be; But yet it doesna do to see Sic freedom used before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; I'll ne'er submit again to it-- So mind you that--before folk.

Ye tell me that my face is fair; It may be sae--I dinna care-- But ne'er again gar't blush sae sair As ye ha'e done before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; Nor heat my cheeks wi' your mad freaks, But aye be douce before folk.

Ye tell me that my lips are sweet, Sic tales, I doubt, are a' deceit; At ony rate, it's hardly meet To pree their sweets before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; Gin that's the case, there's time, and place, But surely no before folk.

But, gin you really do insist That I should suffer to be kissed, Gae, get a license frae the priest, And mak' me yours before folk.

Behave yoursel' before folk, Behave yoursel' before folk; And when we're ane, baith flesh and bane, Ye may tak' ten--before folk.

Alexander Rodger [1784-1846]

RORY O'MORE; OR, GOOD OMENS

Young Rory O'More courted Kathleen bawn, He was bold as a hawk,--she as soft as the dawn; He wished in his heart pretty Kathleen to please, And he thought the best way to do that was to tease.

"Now, Rory, be aisy," sweet Kathleen would cry (Reproof on her lip, but a smile in her eye), "With your tricks I don't know, in troth, what I'm about, Faith, you've teased till I've put on my cloak inside out."

"Och! jewel," says Rory, "that same is the way You've thrated my heart for this many a day; And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure?

For 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.

"Indeed, then," says Kathleen, "don't think of the like, For I half gave a promise to soothering Mike; The ground that I walk on he loves, I'll be bound."

"Faith," says Rory, "I'd rather love you than the ground."

"Now, Rory, I'll cry if you don't let me go; Sure I drame ev'ry night that I'm hating you so!"

"Oh," says Rory, "that same I'm delighted to hear, For drames always go by conthrairies, my dear; So, jewel, keep draming that same till you die, And bright mornin' will give dirty night the black lie!

And 'tis plazed that I am, and why not, to be sure?

Since 'tis all for good luck," says bold Rory O'More.

"Arrah, Kathleen, my darlint, you've teased me enough, Sure I've thrashed for your sake Dinny Grimes and Jim Duff; And I've made myself, drinkin' your health, quite a baste, So I think, after that, I may talk to the praste."

Then Rory, the rogue, stole his arm round her neck, So soft and so white, without freckle or speck, And he looked in her eyes that were beaming with light, And he kissed her sweet lips;--don't you think he was right?

"Now, Rory, leave off, sir: you'll hug me no more; That's eight times to-day that you've kissed me before."

"Then here goes another," says he, "to make sure, For there's luck in odd numbers," says Rory O'More.

Samuel Lover [1797-1868]

ASK AND HAVE

"Oh, 'tis time I should talk to your mother, Sweet Mary," says I; "Oh, don't talk to my mother," says Mary, Beginning to cry: "For my mother says men are deceivers, And never, I know, will consent; She says girls in a hurry to marry, At leisure repent."

"Then, suppose I would talk to your father, Sweet Mary," says I; "Oh, don't talk to my father," says Mary, Beginning to cry: "For my father he loves me so dearly, He'll never consent I should go-- If you talk to my father," says Mary, "He'll surely say, 'No.'"

"Then how shall I get you, my jewel?

Sweet Mary," says I; "If your father and mother's so cruel, Most surely I'll die!"

"Oh, never say die, dear," says Mary; "A way now to save you I see; Since my parents are both so contrary-- You'd better ask me!"

Samuel Lover [1797-1868]

KITTY OF COLERAINE

As beautiful Kitty one morning was tripping, With a pitcher of milk, from the fair of Coleraine, When she saw me she stumbled, the pitcher down tumbled, And all the sweet b.u.t.termilk watered the plain.

"Oh! what shall I do now--'twas looking at you, now; Sure, sure, such a pitcher I'll ne'er meet again!

'Twas the pride of my dairy! Oh! Barney MacCleary, You're sent as a plague to the girls of Coleraine."

I sat down beside her and gently did chide her, That such a misfortune should give her such pain; A kiss then I gave her, and, ere I did leave her, She vowed for such pleasure she'd break it again.

'Twas hay-making season--I can't tell the reason-- Misfortunes will never come single, 'tis plain; For very soon after poor Kitty's disaster The devil a pitcher was whole in Coleraine.

Charles Dawson Shanly [1811-1875]

THE PLAIDIE

Upon ane stormy Sunday, Coming adoon the lane, Were a score of bonnie la.s.sies-- And the sweetest I maintain, Was Caddie, That I took un'neath my plaidie, To s.h.i.+eld her from the rain.

She said the daisies blushed For the kiss that I had ta'en; I wadna hae thought the la.s.sie Wad sae of a kiss complain; "Now, laddie!

I winna stay under your plaidie, If I gang hame in the rain!"

But, on an after Sunday, When cloud there was not ane, This self-same winsome la.s.sie (We chanced to meet in the lane) Said, "Laddie, Why dinna ye wear your plaidie?

Wha kens but it may rain?"

Charles Sibley [? ]