On Turning One Down with the Plow, in April, 1786 Wee, modest, crimson-tippèd flow’r, Thou’s met me in an evil hour; For I maun crush amang the stoure Thy slender stem: To spare thee now is past my pow’r, Thou bonie gem. Alas! it’s no thy neibor sweet, The bonie lark, companion meet, Bending thee ‘mang the dewy weet Wi’ spreck’d breast, When upward-springing, […]
‘Twas in that place o’ Scotland’s isle, That bears the name o’ auld King Coil, Upon a bonnie day in June, When wearin’ thro’ the afternoon, Twa dogs, that were na thrang at hame, Forgather’d ance upon a time. The first I’ll name, they ca’d him Caesar, Was keepit for ‘his Honor’s’ pleasure: His hair, […]
There was a lad was born in Kyle, But whatna day o’ whatna style, I doubt it’s hardly worth the while To be sae nice wi’ Robin. Chor. – Robin was a rovin’ boy, Rantin’, rovin’, rantin’, rovin’, Robin was a rovin’ boy, Rantin’, rovin’, Robin! Our monarch’s hindmost year but ane Was five-and-twenty days […]
It fell on a day, in the flouery month o May A’ on a merry merry mornin I met a pretty maid, an unto her said I wad fain fin yer yellow yellow yorlin O no, young man, says she, you’re a stranger to me An I am anither man’s darlin Wha haes baith sheep […]
He is a gallant Weaver.
O, I had wooers aught or nine,
They gied me rings and ribbons fine;
And I was fear’d my heart wad tine,
And I gied it to the Weaver.
We made it together you and me
Planned the foundation,
Built waws and opened doors
Tae make a hoose, a hame and family
If there’s ever an honest poverty A virgin voyage on tempest sea Tae dig in pillaged dirt Graft cane tae plundered pewter Grams lashed anothers shackelled hand. A man’s a man for aw that? Well no back broke in the plantations. We understand ye didnae go Although ye might have longed it so Midnight flit […]
Twa hunner years on they still sing alang
“Fer a sheeps cloot she’ll do it and do it til morn”
But I’ll sing yer worth Meg atween aw they lines
Yer a bairn, a wumman, a Goddess divine.
I cuid fain the musk o anither man’s lust,
Tell this bastard that I’ve got a darlin
Or tak his siller and pretend, that I dae consent
Tae the stealin o my yellow yellow yorlin
Yer pride’s been dunted, no yer hert
Fer me, a lassie chose anither airt
Awa and play wounded in the dirt
Etter yer reasons as tae why
Night after night you rub against rock,
shed old skin for the pink of new.
Deceit falls from your lips
like seeds from a blackbird’s beak.
And still, I want you.
In the trysting thorn’s fragrant shade
my love deflowered a harebell, crushed
plum petals between finger and thumb,
scented my hollows with adder-grey water.
