The Yellow Yellow Yorlin
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 and cous, that’s feedin in the hows An a cock for my yellow yellow yorlin But if I lay you doun, upon the dewy grund You wad nae be the waur ae farthin An that happy happy man, he never would ken That I played wi yer yellow yellow yorlin O fie, young man, says she, I pray you let me be I wadnae fer five pound sterlin My mither wid gae mad, and sae wid ma dad If ye played wi my yellow yellow yorlin But I tuek her by the waist, an laid her doun in haste, Fer a’ her squakin an squallin The lassie soon grew tame, and bade me come again For tae play wi her yellow yellow yorlin
About this poem
From Merry Muses o Caledonia