Scottish Lyrics, Book 5

I hae laid a herring in saut –
  Lass, gin ye lo’e me tell me know;
I hae brew’d a forpit o’ maut,
  And I canna come ilka day to woo:
I hae a calf that will soon be a cow –
  Lass, gin ye lo’e me tell me know;
I hae a stook, and I’ll soon hae a mowe,
  And I canna come ilka day to woo:

I hae a house upon yon moor –
  Lass, gin ye lo’e me tell me know;
Three sparrows may dance upon the floor,
  And I canna come ilka day to woo:
I hae a but, and I hae a ben - 
  Lass, gin ye lo’e me tell me know;
A penny to keep, and a penny to spen’,
  And I canna come ilka day to woo:

I hae a hen wi’ a happitie-leg –
  Lass, gin ye lo’e me tell me know;
That ilka day lays me an egg,
  And I canna come ilka day to woo:
I hae a cheese upon my skelf -
  Lass, gin ye lo’e me tell me know;
And soon wi’ mites ‘twill rin itself,
  And I canna come ilka day to woo.

Since all thy vows, false maid, 
Are blown to air,
And my poor heart betray'd 
To sad despair,
Into some wilderness,
My grief I will express
And thy hardheartedness,
O cruel Fair!

Have I not grav’n our love
On ev’ry tree
In yonder spreading grove,
Though false thou be?
Was not a solemn oath
Plighted betwixt us both,
Thou thy faith, I my troth,
Constant to be?

 ... 

And when a ghost I am, 
I'll visit thee:
O thou deceitful dame, 
Whose cruelty
Has kill'd the kindest heart
That e'er felt Cupid's dart,
And never can desert
From loving thee.

Wee Willie Gray, an' his leather wallet,
Peel a willow-wand, to be him boots and jacket!
The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet --
The rose upon the brier will be him trouse and doublet!

Wee Willie Gray, and his leather wallet,
Twice a lily-flower will be him sark and cravat!
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet --
Feathers of a flee wad feather up his bonnet!

‘Lass, when your mither is frae hame,
May I but be sae bauld -
As com to your bower window,
And creep in frae the cauld?
As come to your bower window,
And when it’s cauld and wat,
Warm me in they fair bosom –
Sweet lass, may I do that?’

‘Young man, gin ye should be sae kind,
When our gude-wife’s frae hame,
As come to my bower window,
Where I am laid my lane,
To warm thee in my bosom,
Tak’ tent, I’ll tell thee what;
The way to me lies through the Kirk –
Young man, do ye hear that?’

O Wha my babie-clouts will buy,
O Wha will tent me when I cry;
Wha will kiss me where I lie,
The rantin dog the daddie o't.

O Wha will own he did the faut,
O Wha will buy the groanin maut,
O Wha will tell me how to ca 't,
The rantin dog the daddie o't.

When I mount the Creepie-chair,
Wha will sit beside me there,
Gie me Rob, I'll seek nae mair,
The rantin dog the daddie o't.

Wha will crack to me my lane;
Wha will mak me fidgin fain;
What will kiss me o'er again,
The rantin dog the daddie o't.

"Wha is that at my bower-door?"
"O wha is it but Findlay!"
"Then gae your gate, ye'se nae be here:"
"Indeed maun I," quo' Findlay;
"What mak' ye, sae like a thief?"
"O come and see," quo' Findlay;
"Before the morn ye'll work mischief:"
"Indeed will I," quo' Findlay.

"Gif I rise and let you in"-
"Let me in," quo' Findlay;
"Ye'll keep me waukin wi' your din;"
"Indeed will I," quo' Findlay;
"In my bower if ye should stay"-
"Let me stay," quo' Findlay;
"I fear ye'll bide till break o' day;"
"Indeed will I," quo' Findlay.

"Here this night if ye remain"-
"I'll remain," quo' Findlay;
"I dread ye'll ken the gate again;"
"Indeed will I," quo' Findlay.
"What may pass within this bower"-
"Let it pass," quo' Findlay;
"Ye maun conceal till your last hour:"
"Indeed will I," quo' Findlay.

O Rattlin, roarin Willie,
  O he held to the fair,
An' for to sell his fiddle
  And buy some other ware;
But parting wi' his fiddle,
  The saut tear blin't his e'e;
And Rattlin, roarin Willie,
  Ye're welcome hame to me.

O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
  O sell your fiddle sae fine;
O Willie, come sell your fiddle,
  And buy a pint o' wine;
If I should sell my fiddle,
  The warld would think I was mad,
For mony a rantin day
  My fiddle and I hae had.

As I cam by Crochallan
  I cannily keekit ben,
Rattlin, roarin Willie
  Was sitting at yon board-en' ,
Sitting at yon board-en' ,
  And amang guid companie;
Rattlin, roarin Willie,
  Ye're welcome hame to me!

Calum thonder, long's the night to your thinking
 [ ... ]

As white’s the blossom on the rise
 [ ... ]

I met ayont the cairney
 [ ... ]

Ae weet forenicht i’ the yow-trummle
 [ ... ]

He that hes gold and grit riches
And may be into mirrynes,
And dois glaidnes fra him expell
And levis into wrechitnes,
He wirkis sorrow to himsell.

He that may be but sturt or stryfe
And leif ane lusty plesand lyfe,
And syne with mariege dois him mell
And bindis him with ane wicket wyfe,
He wirkis sorrow to himsell.

He that hes for his awin genyie
Ane plesand prop, but mank or menyie,
And schuttis syne at ane uncow schell,
And is forfairn with the fleis of Spenyie,
He wirkis sorrow to himsell.

And he that with gud lyfe and trewth,
But varians or uder slewth,
Dois evirmair with ane maister dwell,
That nevir of him will haif no rewth,
He wirkis sorrow to himsell.

Now all this tyme lat us be mirry,
And sett nocht by this warld a chirry.
Now quhill thair is gude wyne to sell,
He that dois on dry breid wirry,
I gif him to the Devill of Hell!

Scots, wha hae wi' Wallace bled, 
Scots, wham Bruce has aften led, 
Welcome to your gory bed
Or to victorie! 

Now's the day, and now's the hour :
See the front o' battle lour,
See approach proud Edward's power –
Chains and slaverie! 

Wha will be a traitor knave? 
Wha can fill a coward's grave? 
Wha sae base as be a slave? 
Let him turn and flee! 

Wha, for Scotland's King and Law, 
Freedom's sword will strongly draw, 
Free-man stand, or free-man fa', 
Let him on wi' me! 

By oppression's woes and pains,
By your sons in servile chains,
We will drain our dearest veins 
But they shall be free! 

Lay the proud usurpers low! 
Tyrants fall in every foe! 
Liberty's in every blow!
Let us do or die!