Let ilka lassie tak a man, An' ilka callan tak a wife; But youth wi' youth gae hand in hand, An' a' ye lasses plump and fair, Let pure affection guide your hand, Wi' wither'd age, for gear or land. BONNY BEETY. TUNE-Tow row row. "I WAS a weaver, young an' free, Sae frank an' cheery aye to meet wi', Until wi' ane unwary e'e I view'd the charms o' Bonny Beety. Lack a day! Far away If I lose her. "I tauld her I had got a wound Through sark an' waistcoat frae her sweet e'e; She said it ne'er should do't again, An' off like lightning flew my Beety. Luckless day! May I say, When my way "Ae day she cam wi' hanks o' yarn, When wi' my wark my face was sweety; She said I was a chrieshy thief, An' ne'er should get a kiss o' Beety. O ho, ho, hon! Now I'm gone, A weaver's ruin. "She laughs at me an' at my loom, Eyes an' mind, Womankind Are to their profit! "But by my shuttle now I swear, An' by the beam, if Wattie meet me, I'll lose my life or gain my Beety, Jades an' sluts! Thus sang the weaver at his wark, An' wi' pure grief was like to greet aye, When Charlie brought a letter ben, He thought he ken'd his Beety. Happy day, Did he say, When my way He read "Dear sir, my wedding-day Now I'm gone, He raise sat down-an' raise again- The web is red, Beety's wed, Will is dead, An' all is over. AYONT THE MOW AMANG THE TUNE-Andrew wi' his cutty Gun. BLYTHLY hae I screw'd my pipes, O Bessie, bloomin' in her teens, "At e'en when a' the lave gae lie, Ahint the ha' I'll meet wi' thee." She leugh an' bad me let her hame, Her mither sair wad flyte an' scauld; But ere I quat my bonny Bess Anither tale I trow she tauld. On Tysday night, fou weel I wat, Wi' hinny words I row'd my tongue, Raught down my plaid, an stievely stak Untill my neive a hazel rung. Now whan I con'd my artless tale The bleeter cry'd frae yont the loch, "O hoolie, hoolie-whare ye gaun ?" The craik reply'd frae 'mang the corn, Turn out your taes, my bonny man." An' soon I faund wi' shiv'rin' shanks, My heart play dunt through basfou fear, Whan glow'rin' owre the kail-yard dyke To see gin a' the coast was clear; An' there, like ony nightly thief, I lightly laup outowr the stile; |